Let's start the show
by Terrific Lunacy
Summary: [AU!] It started as a game. When two highborn lords come looking for a distraction from boredom, they merge the worlds of the highest class with those of the lowest class. An invitation sets things in motion that were supposed to stay locked away. Because a kingdom on the verge of collapse, a noble without a past and a circus performer with a secret are not a good combination.
1. A philosophical debate with consequences

_**A/N:** I've got 99 plot ideas and this wasn't one - but it's here anyways.  
_

 _Disclaimer_ : _I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made._

 _Warnings:_ _Infrequent updates. Like, hey-whatup-it's-been-a-year updates. Also this starts of okay-ish but will actually be really dark._

 _Basically my try at political powerplay. You get all these nice stories in which Harry is social grace personified and somehow always ends up being dark. So I wanted to do one where he isn't dark, but still has that cunning streak._

 _Except that's a lie, I didn't want to do anything it just was here somehow.  
_

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* * *

 **A philosophical debate with consequences**

Sometimes Lucius surprised himself.

He wasn't known for it, but occasionally he had sudden bouts of recklessness that drove him to seek adventures. They had a certain boyishness to them and made him feel alive, albeit they also tended to land him in some unusual situations.

"Charming," Severus sneered beside him.

They stood at the border of the city, in the lower quarters where only poor folk lived. Both of them looked completely out of place with their tailored coats and gloves made of the finest material.

"Well it should suit our purposes, I think," he answered his long-time friend.

"When you invited me over for an evening of philosophical discussions I admittedly expected something less…dirty."

"You have to get your nose out of the books, Severus. This particular question can only be answered by observation."

"I disagree. A hypothetical scenario in a well-schooled mind yields all the answers one needs."

"And yet we arrived at nothing conclusive."

"The debate is an old one, I sincerely doubt we will find any new evidence here."

Lucius was inclined to agree with him, but he hadn't just ruined his favourite boots in the mud of the lowborn quarters for nothing. He watched the pathetic excuses for human beings scurry around them in the dusk, the most courageous ones stealing a glimpse at them before lowering their eyes.

One could really only assume they had been born without a spine or even a semblance of self-respect.

"They are all streaming in the same direction," Severus observed.

"In that case we'll follow them."

Severus shot him a look that conveyed the full extent of his displeasure without words. The man had perfected that technique since childhood.

"It could be exciting," Lucius said with fake enthusiasm. "Maybe they found a loaf of bread?"

It wasn't bread.

What they found instead, at the very edge of the city, was a well-illuminated site with dozens, maybe hundreds, of people crowding it. To his surprise he could also spot some richer merchants and even a few nobles amongst them.

The trailers forming a circle around the place, the big cages behind them, the music, laughter and especially the large tent in the middle of it all left nothing to the imagination. It was a circus.

It really couldn't get any more adventurous than this.

"Step right up! Amuse yourself! Tickets are cheap! The wonders are endless! Thank you Sir! Milady! Show starts in fifteen minutes! The experience of a lifetime!"

The performers shouted amongst the crowd, some of them standing on chairs or mingling with the people, selling tickets, trying to attract as many customers as possible.

He could even hear a faint roar from somewhere around them, some kind of exotic beast getting ready for his part. And was that a small monkey darting between the many legs?

Lucius couldn't quite decide if he should feel absolutely repulsed or fascinated by the spectacle in front of him.

"Lucius," his friend warned him exasperated. Severus had apparently made up his mind in regards of the place.

Seeing the bookworm trying not to squirm in the unfamiliar environment was enough for Lucius to see the evening as a success.

"I thought you were a studious mind Severus. A place of _endless wonders_ sounds perfect for you!" he taunted.

"Careful with your jests milord, out of the two of you I give him the higher chance to leave the tent without gaping like a dying fish," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

It was a clear tenor, pleasant to the ear, and currently soaked in amusement. It also took Lucius a while to identify the source, as it came from _above_ them.

On the roof of the trailer to their left sat a young man. One foot dangled from the edge while the other leg was bent so that his elbow could rest on it, holding his chin.

He was peering down at them, at the people who stood so much higher in society than him, with a confident smile, almost sly.

Usually such a thing from lowborn scum would have infuriated Lucius, disgusted even. But there was no disrespect in the young man's eyes and neither was his confidence exaggerated. It was simply part of him, a man completely aware of his place but unbothered by it.

When the youth noticed that he had their attention, he stood up, his movements almost feline in his grace as he balanced himself on the edge in the flickering light of the torches.

Lucius expected him to dangle from the ledge and climb down, but he simply jumped, doing a casual somersault in the air before landing silently in front of them.

Pitch black hair, messy but well-tended, startling green eyes and high cheekbones. He was young and maybe a head shorter than the two lords. But not even the ill-fitting - but at least clean - clothes could hide his lean, muscular stature. Beautiful.

"Good evening," the youth greeted amused, when neither of them spoke after his impressive entrance.

Despite his obvious amusement at their dumbfounded stares, his voice was still nothing but respectful and Lucius realized the young man knew exactly what he was doing, how to play.

He could appreciate that much social grace, even if it came in lowborn people.

When the silence continued the youth only smiled brighter, swiftly procuring two slips of papers from his sleeve. "Tickets?"

He leaned closer to Severus, a bit too close to be entirely appropriate and - oh my, was that a faint blush on the pale man's face? The young man was even better than he thought.

Lucius regained his bearings and turned to his friend. "Why not give it a go? It will hardly cost us much."

He knew his statement was insulting, implying the cheap worth of the entertainment provided.

But the young man only smiled softly and gave a flourished bow in his direction.

Men could get drunk from that much elegant compliance.

And the youth knew exactly what effect it had. Feigning submission, yet everyone could see he was only playing the game. It was so masterfully done that it didn't matter if it was fake or not. The fantasy of it was intoxicating enough.

"A tiny little extra and you get the first row milords," the youth said, still in a slight bow.

"And get trampled by your wild beasts? I think not," Severus sneered.

The young man righted himself fluidly, his posture relaxed.

"All our animals are exceptionally well trained sir, there is no need to be afraid." He glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with mirth, obviously goading the man intentionally.

Severus' lips were pressed firmly together, but if he didn't want his honour insulted he had no other option than to actually pay.

Lucius wanted to laugh out loud. To think a _circus member_ had outmanoeuvred a noble lord with only a few sentences. Brilliant.

Severus saw his expression and gave him another dark look, while he wordlessly handed over the money for the tickets he never wanted.

He was rewarded with a coy smile and another smooth bow. "Thank you very much milords, I wish you the best of evenings."

"Will we see you in an act, or are you just here to…attract…customers?"

The implication was not lost on the youth, judging by the sly smile. "I am an acrobat sir. I hope my act proves entertaining to you."

Lucius let his eyes wander down the length of his body openly, revelling in the fact that the young man let it happen without even batting an eyelash, patiently waiting for his attention to return to his face.

"I'm sure it will," Lucius murmured, meaning every word of it.

And thus the two lords found themselves in the first row of a circus, amongst so many people far beneath their standing.

Neither of them took their eyes off the lithe figure that soared through the air above them during the performance.

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* * *

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While Harry left a lasting impression on the two highborns, they left only a fleeting one on him.

Nobles like them came and went. The circus was at the border between the somewhat poorer quarter of the city and the slums that stretched out around it.

The nobles only ever came down here in search of a little thrill to quench their boredom. Sometimes they were driven by nothing else than friendly dares.

It was the same in every city. They had stayed longer than ever in this one, because it also had a rather wealthy middleclass who was less afraid to come down here and even seemed to genuinely enjoy the show. So far customers all but streamed into their tent. As long as they made enough money to get by they would stay.

The circus had been his family for five years now, since he was fourteen. The years before that…had not been pretty for him.

As far as he was concerned his life began with the circus and everything before that was better left in the dark corners of his mind, shut out behind walls.

The circus represented something forbidden and fascinating to the nobles, who were used to their grand mansions and could never sleep in old trailers amongst cages of animals. But to Harry it was home, no matter where their location.

He considered everyone here his friend.

There was Hermione, their magician, clever at inventing new illusions and brilliant at performing them.

Bill, Charlie and Ron were animal trainers, unbelievably patient when it came to their animals, often quite less so when it came to humans.

The twins of course, every respectable circus needed twins. Clowns in and out of the arena if Harry ever saw one.

Ginny was still rather young to be performing solo, but she often assisted with Hermione's magic tricks and was starting to become a magnificent tightrope walker.

Luna was so good at fortune telling that sometimes Harry started to believe in it as well.

Then there was Neville, too shy to actually perform anything, but he cooked, cleaned and built things around their circus.

The circus also often housed several independent groups who stayed in their show for a season or so before moving on. All together they were one big family.

Everything was coordinated by the Weasley's parents, which mostly meant their mother.

And then there was Harry of course. Tightrope, trapeze, trampoline, bars, silk rope - you name it. His agility and fearlessness sometimes even put his fellow performers in awe.

Acrobats had probably the most dangerous act, but Harry had never felt anything but safe above the ground. The higher up he was the happier. He had to admit that he liked the trapeze the best. He felt like flying whenever he was performing.

Also, blondie hadn't been wrong to call him the customers' attractor.

The twins were brilliant at luring the lower and middle class citizens to their world, but if they wanted to charm some nobles - and get them to pay five times the amount a ticket usually costed - they needed Harry.

He was good at playing their game. As long as he could keep his disdain off his face.

Really, for priding themselves to be the most sophisticated people they were just too easy. A smile here, a bow there, a compliment or a soft touch whenever appropriate and they became drooling idiots.

They were also very safe. If he'd charm lowborns in the same way they might expect him to take things further. The disdainful notion that all wandering folks sold their bodies for a little extra was sadly a very persistent one.

A circus was exciting to have in town, but the performers weren't citizens. No matter how poor the people of the town, the circus was seen as something even lower. The law did nothing to protect them. So they had to watch out for each other.

But nobles would never stoop so low as to admit that they lusted after a circus artist. So Harry could charm and flirt all he wanted to lure them into their tent, they would never lay a hand on him.

Harry stretched languidly, his muscles pleasantly sore from today's show.

He had done an extra act in tonight's show, because of the two lords.

Nobles they got quite frequently, but you could see from a distance that those two were different. And there was no point in denying that they had only bought the ticket to see him.

Customers began to tickle out of the tent.

Children gushed excitedly about what they had seen. Parents laughed and bought food from the stands. The few highborns exchanged pleasantries.

The circus performers mingled as well, receiving compliments, doing a few extra tricks, maybe pocket some money here and there from the drunks.

Their circus had rather strong morals for their social standing, but a bit of thieving from the super rich wouldn't hurt anyone. They never noticed the loss and if they did it was such an insignificant amount that they convinced themselves they must have misplaced their purse and went on with their lives.

The two lords were amongst the last ones to come out. Seeing them in the middle of the crowd, Harry noticed that even their poised walk was enough to distinguish them from the rest.

Their eyes found his and they came straight towards him, standing just a bit outside of the lingering crowd.

Harry smiled wildly and instantly dropped into a low bow.

He honestly didn't mind the bowing and the tedious honorifics. It was fake, an act, a game. He was good at it and he enjoyed predicting their reactions precisely.

It was an art in itself, a very subtle manipulation of those around him, to get exactly what he wanted. His skills in the air were only rivalled by his skill of reading people.

He had observed the two lords for several minutes, listening in to their conversation before he had made himself known.

Blondie here liked to come across as closed-off, but he appreciated some things openly and he went practically starry-eyed at Harry's compliant attitude. He had exquisite tastes in all things and he enjoyed the verbal dancing at the highborns' court.

His dark haired, pale companion was another matter entirely. He had little patience with the play-pretend and didn't react at all to skilful conversations. But Harry could tell there was a dry wit there, ready to lash out if the man would let it. He didn't share blondie's joy for socializing, but rather analysed situations around him clinically.

He was a hard nut to crack in Harry's little acting game, but the man had a strong weakness for physical intimacy. It made him in equal amounts uncomfortable as it fascinated him, shattering his barriers efficiently.

"Milords," Harry greeted pleasantly. "Still alive I see."

"As are you. A bit hard to believe after what we saw," blondie was careful to keep his voice level, but the admiration still seeped through.

"It is my livelihood sir, though your compliment still honours me greatly."

He bowed again. He was lying it on thick, but blondie seemed to appreciate it.

As someone of such high standing he must be well used to the fakeness of these things and saw through Harry's act easily.

That didn't stop him from enjoying his skilful execution. And to fool his companion Harry would have needed to step up his acting greatly, which would have meant so much effort for no gain at all as the man didn't value pleasantries.

So Harry didn't even bother to make it look real. Though he did go to great lengths to make it seem completely natural and flawlessly graceful.

"There is still much to see milords, maybe you would like to know your fortunes? Or take a closer look at our animals? Though you didn't seem too fond of them before."

He directed his last words to the dark-haired lord, a playful smile firmly on his lips. The man's onyx eyes glinted darkly at the soft jab, but whatever clever comeback he had in his mind was once again firmly held back.

A shame really, the man might have proven to be a challenge.

"We have only eyes for you, I'm afraid."

My, but blondie certainly wasn't holding back.

"My skills are shown off best in the air sir, though I could certainly also entertain on any…flat surfaces as well."

He meant floor gymnastics of course, but the innuendo was bound to fry blondie's brain with the image.

The lord's eyes, hooded in pleasure before, widened comically. Really now, the man was too easy.

His companion's glare wasn't directed at Harry for once, but at blondie. Maybe he shared Harry's sentiment.

Harry considered giving him more attention, but as blondie clearly was the more active participant in their little dance he discarded the idea. He had gotten his money out of them, no use in enticing a man that didn't want or needed to be here.

Blondie managed to regain his composure - or maybe he'd gotten off, it was hard to tell with nobles - and took another step towards him, definitely intruding in his personal space now.

Ah. Show of dominance. How boring.

But Harry complied and dropped his head just so, peeking up at the taller man from underneath his jet-black fringe. Lesson number one: Never break eye contact, they lost interest otherwise.

"We were hoping you might do us a favour," blondie murmured sinuously.

From the corner of his eyes Harry caught the other lord rolling his eyes at blondie's use of 'we', clearly not sharing the other's enthusiasm.

His smile broadened. "For you? Anything sir."

He fully expected the amused excitement that entered blondie's eyes. He had admittedly not expected him to pull out a plain, but expensive looking envelope.

Harry blinked at it, for the first time tonight caught a bit off guard.

"An invitation," blondie explained. "For tomorrow's gala at Riddle manor."

Riddle manor. By the gods, just how high on the social ladder were the two lords if they had spare invitations to Riddle's parties?

"Ah, I-… You wish me to perform something sir?"

Harry absolutely hated himself for stuttering at the beginning. It wouldn't matter, as it underlined his submissive posture beautifully, but it grated on his nerves because it hadn't been planned.

"Well a little show would certainly prove entertaining," blondie answered. "But no, nothing scheduled at least. Just as a guest."

Harry allowed his eyebrows to rise in scepticism. "I'm not exactly used to such…gatherings…sir."

"And that's precisely why you're perfect," blondie smiled insinuatingly. "See, Severus and I have a little philosophical debate going on."

 _Severus_. Harry stored the information away for later, though it wouldn't do him much good without knowing their last names.

"Oh?" he made interested.

"Yes, _nature_ versus _nurture_. Are manners, behaviour, intelligence and grace inherent, or could they in fact be learned under the right circumstances? For example, as a circus acrobat such as yourself."

A lowborn scum was probably what he wanted to say, but he most likely expected Harry to be honoured that he even considered him to have a chance to be anywhere on the same level as the nobles.

Harry now also had an answer why two lords of such high standing would be here in the first place.

"And what is your stance on the debate sir?" he looked up at blondie openly and unabashed, a gesture reserved between people from the same social circles.

Blondie's head tilted in contemplation, a pleased smile tugging at his lips. "I might find myself rethinking my initial position."

"And what exactly do you expect me to prove by going to this gala?"

Blondie chuckled. "Well now, that would depend entirely on the outcome of the evening, don't you think?"

A challenge. It would actually please Harry immensely to mess around with the sheer arrogance of the aristocrats.

But going so far away from the circus on his own could be dangerous. A noble would never do anything to him in such a public place, but who knew what went on behind the closed doors of their mansions?

He was still convinced their own arrogance would prevent them from laying so much as a finger on him, especially surrounded by their own kind, but it was still a certain risk.

"We have shows every evening though," Harry argued. "And if we were to cancel my parts in the performance then-…"

"There would be financial compensation of course," blondie interrupted. "We would never want to hinder a hardworking man in his job. However, we are sadly entirely ignorant of how much you make on an evening, but rest assured we're willing to compensate for your loss."

A clear offer, an invitation to name a price far beyond what Harry or the whole circus usually gained for their shows.

And the circus was always low on money, barely scrapping by.

If he stayed alert and careful during the gala then this could only be a win-win situation. And Harry was nothing but confident in his abilities to dance around highborns.

He took the envelope from blondie's hands.

"It will be my honour to see you there, lord..?" he trailed off, waiting for the man to give him his name.

Blondie's pleasure was palpable. "Malfoy."

Harry almost dropped the envelope.

Apparently he wasn't fast enough to conceal all aspects of his shock, because the lord's smile turned into a smirk.

"Please, call me Lucius."

He gave him a last onceover before turning around, heading away from the circus, deliberately not waiting for Harry's name.

His companion was a bit slower in his retreat, appraising Harry calculatively. Harry remained silent, wondering if the man would give his name without further probing, or if he would simply dismiss him.

"Snape," he said finally, curtly.

He didn't bother offering him his first name as he stalked after Lucius, robes billowing behind him. Maybe he didn't want Harry using his first name or he had noticed that Harry had already picked it up.

Harry stared down at the fine envelope in his hands and felt a jolt of apprehension and excitement rush through him.

He had no interest in the highborn court but some names were known everywhere, an integral part of the most general knowledge. Snape was one of them.

And you literally couldn't get much higher than Malfoy.

Except perhaps the royal family.

And Tom Marvolo Riddle, who had come out of nowhere and was whispered to have more power than the king himself.

This could be interesting.

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* * *

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 _ **A/N:** I mean...it _could _be interesting? Potentially?  
_

 _So this one actually has a high chance to get a second chapter relatively fast (With Voldemort in it, duh :)). After that I'm not promising anything._


	2. The power of names

_**A/N:** So I said at the beginning that Harry isn't dark in this, but then a lot of people were confused because he was acting smart/charming/manipulative.  
Lemme explain: I like a good dark!Harry story here and there. I like the atmosphere they give off and the cleverness they bring. I have, however, never understood why Harry needed to be the next dark lord hatchling for this to happen. Or why every of his friends needed to be bad.  
_

 _So let me try to rephrase: Basically picture a Slytherin!Harry but without the I-have-all-my-followers-right-here-and-we're-going-to-take-over-the-world-at-like-ELEVEN-and-oh-also-the-guy-who-murdered-my-family?-totally-hot-like-ten-out-of-ten-I-am-so-evil-I-kick-ass-literally-all-the-time._

 _There's nothing wrong with those stories, there just are a lot like them already out there so there's no point in me writing another one. But like I said, I very much like the 'vibe' coming off of dark!Harry stories in general, so I'll try to re-create those, but it's still Harry-I-just-want-to-protect-my-friends._

 _Enough ranting, I hope any of that made sense or well...read on and see I guess ^_^._

 _Thank you so much for all your reviews :)!_

 _Enjoy :)_

 _._

* * *

 **The power of names  
**

By the time Harry woke up the next day, a package had made its way to the doorstep of his trailer.

The circus tended to sleep in, as their nights were often long, so it was closer to noon than morning when Harry discovered it.

He opened it to find one whole set of clothes, exquisitely fabricated and smelling pleasantly. At first he thought nothing more of it, surely Malfoy had all kinds of spare clothes lying around, but when he tried them on it became clear that there was no way the clothes were anything but new. They fit him perfectly.

It hardly surprised Harry that Lucius had gotten his measurements so accurately. The lord certainly had been ogling him enough.

He wondered what would happen if he just didn't show up this evening. The clothes alone were worth a fortune, hell, selling the coat would probably allow the whole circus to take a night off. And blondie must have paid another hefty sum to have them made so quickly.

Would the two lords actually hunt him down again if he didn't go? Or was one set of fine clothes not worth the trouble?

But, Harry thought, staring at the opened invitation for tonight's gala, that would mean he admitted defeat. He'd told them he would go, so he would. He'd sell the clothes afterwards for sure though, they were ridiculous to keep around.

He changed into his standard shirt and trousers, folding the fine materials neatly on his bed, and went out to help around the circus.

There was always so much to prepare and organize that had nothing to do with their shows. The people here also needed to live. They had their share of sickness, repairs, cooking, cleaning and babysitting, just like any other household. Theirs just happened to be a bit bigger.

If you found yourself with spare time on your hands you trained. Especially now that they had stayed for so long in one place, they couldn't allow themselves to become stagnant. People wanted to see different, new things, yet at the same time some classical acts were an integral part of the show.

And even when they weren't inventing new tricks, one needed to stay on top of one's game. The animals needed caring. A magician's fingers needed to stay nimble. An acrobat's body needed to be in top shape.

Harry went through his routine and did his chores around the circus like any other day. He told Molly early on that he wouldn't take part in tonight's show, so she could adjust the program accordingly. The members had a pretty flexible schedule overall. Of course, one had to work in order to live, but if you took one night off once in a while no one would question you.

Harry had taken great care to not tell her while Hermione was still within hearing distance. While he loved the brilliant girl above anything, she would have instantly wanted to know where he was going and would have had a detailed list of arguments ready why he shouldn't.

He knew all these reasons already. Had gone over benefits and risks in his head last night. He had still arrived at the decision to go, and that's why he changed back into the fine clothes by eight o'clock in the evening, two hours before the event was supposed to start.

He took some time to make extra sure his scar was covered flawlessly with makeup. He had hoped it would disappear completely over the years, but the blasted thing stubbornly refused to leave.

It was fine around his friends, circus members simply wouldn't blink twice if they saw a scar and most importantly they didn't - couldn't - know the meaning behind Harry's.

Highborns however… The nobles might be able to connect the dots. Harry wasn't going to risk that.

He wasn't sure if blondie would sent him yet another surprise, some means to take him there maybe. But Harry wasn't going to stay around to find out, deciding that he might as well walk through the city.

The idea to just walk up to the pompous party, while all the lords and ladies in their neat little carriages arrived with servants receiving them, pleased Harry immensely. There was nothing more amusing than seeing the confused horror that entered the highborns eyes when things didn't go according to proper protocol.

Directions were obviously unnecessary. Everyone knew where Riddle's manor was.

The mansion stood a bit isolated on a hill in the highborn quarters, a magnificent garden shrouding it from watchful eyes.

While the man undoubtedly was a crucial component in any high society party, the doors of his own home tended to stay shut. When he did open them only the crème de la crème were invited.

The remote location and his lack of enthusiasm for hosting such gatherings himself, led to the overall consensus that the man was a bit of a recluse. How he could be described as both a socialite and a hermit was beyond Harry.

How he knew so much about him in the first place? Rumours. Rumours _everywhere_.

Riddle had taken over the gossip mill in a sweep when he first appeared about one year ago.

Handsome, charming, intelligent and most importantly, single. Which caused a frankly ridiculous amount of rumours dedicated to find an explanation as to why such a smashing lord at his age was not yet at least engaged.

One would think the interest around his person would stay in the highborn courts, but no, they spread out even in the slums, the name 'Tom Riddle' more likely treated as a myth than a man. A story, a fairytale to tell in order to pass the time.

Harry was honestly quite looking forward to at least catch a glimpse of the man. With the gossip blowing him up into epic proportions, the lord could literally only disappoint. Harry found it sobering to realize there was a physical body attached to the prominent name.

The walk took him almost one and a half hours. As their circus was literally at the edge of the city, he had to march through the quarters of every possible social standing.

Rotten, skewed houses and dimly lit streets gave way into solid blockhouses and squares. Moving even further came the single houses with beautiful gardens around them, which slowly morphed into luxurious mansions and spacious parks.

By the time he arrived in the better-off regions Harry was grateful for his clothes. They had earned him odd looks at first, then covert glances from the middleclass, now they let him pass by unnoticed.

He wouldn't be able to hide behind them forever. He was well aware that once he actually stepped into the gala everyone would immediately notice him as foreign.

The elites kept a close eye on each other, a face that couldn't be matched immediately to a name would stick out like a sore thumb.

Whether they would instantly label him as lowborn, or whether they would assume he came from far away, would determine the answer to the lords little debate.

The gate in front of the long winded path leading up to Riddle manor and the gloomy tree branches hanging low over the big bushes gave the estate a peculiar feel. It was a place sensible people did their best to avoid.

He approached it nonetheless and walked up to the two servants standing guard. Even they were dressed in well-fitted, expensive clothes. Serving a lord was a very socially acceptable thing to do, even for highborns.

"No trespassing," one of them called out immediately upon noticing Harry's approach. "Lord Riddle is hosting a gala tonight and if any of you snotty-nosed brats-...Oh, uhm, apologies sir, but this gate is off-limits."

Harry wordlessly handed them his invitation. His clothes identified him as highborn, the invitation would have them assume he was one of the nobles.

The poor man looked like he'd been struck by lightning, apparently not quite able to process what was happening. "Oh. Oh! But sir- I mean- milord! Guests use the entrance at the back, it provides a much better access for your carriage…uhh…"

He'd noticed Harry's distinct lack of carriage, date or attendants.

"I- I mean-…They always go around the back…usually," he finished lamely, looking to his friend for guidance, who appeared just as clueless as to how to handle Harry.

"Well can I use this path instead?" Harry asked pleasantly. "It leads to the house just the same, does it not?"

"Err, uhm, y-yes. But-but it's dark sir, I mean, milord! You could trip!"

"And my bones will surely shatter from the impact, my brain splattering across the cobblestones as my skull bursts open," Harry nodded gravely.

Both servants had gone pale, neither of them apparently familiar with humour.

"Not to worry," he continued cheerfully, snatching the invitation out of the numb hands of the servant and moving past them. "I'm sure you are capable enough to clean up the mess."

He pushed open the gate and slipped in before they could react.

It was probably the best advantage you got as a noble. If your behaviour didn't fit with the expectations, people didn't know how to handle you. Even if you were annoying, people couldn't do much, always needing to stay polite and careful.

The small path leading up to the manor was dark, the torches standing on the sides unlit.

As he neared the top he could see the other, wider path full with carriages and highly illuminated.

On the spacious porch in front of the building people started to mingle, meeting their acquaintances before entering, letting their servants take care of their carriages and horses.

Harry however arrived at the adjacent side of the manor, outside of the bright area.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice startled him out of his observations. It was too close for Harry's liking, as he had thought himself quite alone. He wasn't usually the one taken off guard.

A man sat on an elegant lawn chair, his features only minimally illuminated from the light that came out of the half-opened door behind him. He hadn't even looked up at Harry, his eyes fixed on the book in his hands, the light just sufficient to make the pages visible enough.

Harry realized the man had sat so still against the manor's dark wall that he had simply slipped past his notice.

"So I've been told," Harry said, catching himself. "Apparently there's a proper way to approach _houses_ now."

The man did look up at that and Harry could only barely make out his face.

There was this quiet, confident aura around the man, in the way he held himself still and relaxed in his chair while Harry stood. He was quite obviously not a servant, though Harry's mind couldn't conjure any explanation as to why he wouldn't join the other lords in the front.

"Your first time?" the man in the shadows asked.

"Very much so," Harry answered. "You must have gone through the procedure quite often though, if it bores you enough to read a book."

"I prefer books to people."

"Even though they are written by people?"

White teeth flashed as the other gave him a sharp smile. "Maybe precisely because of that."

Harry's eyebrows rose sceptically. "And you've abandoned the well-lit, cosy atmosphere of the manor for the dark cold outside because..?"

"The noise."

"Ah," Harry made in understanding. The constant chattering of the lords and ladies was loud enough to hear from their spot. It would be worse by a thousandfold inside.

"And the sky is remarkable tonight," the man added, almost like an afterthought.

Harry looked up reflexively and his eyes went wide. He realized they stood high enough for the stars to be bright and clear, despite the city smokes. It wasn't a sight he saw often, their location always in the deepest pits.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, his delight genuine.

"It is," the man agreed, his head tilted in contemplation as he scrutinized him.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well then, my apologies for interrupting. I shall go re-join the others and pretend to be _terribly_ flustered for taking the front gate."

"You do that," the man said amused. "Although I find it very hard to imagine you embarrassed."

Harry started acting almost out of reflex.

His head dropped sheepishly, his feet shifting nervously while his hands seemed to fight the urge to twist the hem of his coat.

By all accounts he appeared to be a young man fidgeting from distress and trying desperately to hide it.

The man suddenly leaned forward in keen interest.

Harry smirked at him from below his fringe. "Good enough? Do you think they will be fooled?"

"I think you could fool almost anybody," the man said pensively.

 _Almost._

For some reason, that little word grated on Harry's nerves.

Ignoring the stab of annoyance, he discarded his posture and bent down into a low bow instead. "Thank you kindly for the vote of confidence, milord."

The gesture clearly caught the man off guard, as no highborn would ever bow in front of a stranger without a proper introduction and the assured certainty that the other was of higher standing.

If he hadn't already, he surely had given the man cause to doubt his standing - or sanity - now. But he couldn't help it, he loved screwing with people's perception.

"I see I might not be the only one wishing this boring farce would already be over."

Harry looked up at him, surprised. He hadn't exactly shown much respect for being invited here yes, but he hadn't expected the other to admit so to a stranger.

"One more eccentric idiot hosting a gathering for arrogant fools, we will survive it," Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

Another flash of white, another sharp smile. Something about the man unsettled Harry, though of course, that could have been due to the fact that he was half hidden in the darkness. He couldn't read him at all like that.

"The evening has already become much more interesting thanks to you."

"Glad to be of service," Harry gave back without missing a beat. "Try not to freeze to death, milord. You just might be the only person I like talking to in this place."

He turned around and left without giving the other a chance to dismiss him.

He headed for the brightly illuminated porch in front of the main entrance of the mansion, quickly scanning the crowd for his new… _acquaintances._

Lucius was ridiculously easy to spot and Severus Snape lurked just behind him.

"Ah our experiment!" Lucius exclaimed pleased when he saw Harry approach.

Harry suppressed a sigh and dropped into a bow again. People won't find anything strange with that, blondie was a Malfoy after all.

"You have yet to tell us your name," Lucius continued, his eyes already sweeping Harry's figure again, assessing the clothes.

The lord would have to tone that down a bit if he didn't want to broadcast his interest to everyone standing in the same room.

"One would think my name hardly matters in a place like this," Harry answered coyly.

Lucius chuckled. "It can still be used to sate our curiosity."

"Harry Evans."

His mother's maiden name slipped easily out of his mouth, after so many years of using it. Not even his friends knew he was born a Potter.

 _That_ name would have had a significantly different effect on Lucius. One that would have gotten Harry killed before morning.

As it was it only earned him a small nod.

"Lucius, who is your guest? I thought I told you to introduce me to any dashing young man of your circle," a women interrupted, her hand slipping casually into Lucius unoffered elbow, batting her eyelashes at the powerful lord.

Harry could see Lucius' thin eyebrows twitch once at her use of his first name.

Nonetheless he smiled charmingly at her. "A circus acrobat, milady."

Well, he had known blondie had a flair for the dramatic. The poor lady's face was locked in shocked disgust and she briskly turned around and left without another word.

Harry didn't watch her go, being rather more interested in the pleased little smirk on Lucius lips. Dramatic and cruel.

"Does that not defeat the purpose of me being here? Milord?" he asked curiously.

"We wondered how to introduce you and after extensive discussion we settled on a compromise. Tell the truth if asked directly, let them assume what they want otherwise," Lucius turned back to Harry. "And I thought I had asked you to call me Lucius."

"That might cause quite the confusion," Harry pointed out drily.

"Yes, isn't it wonderful?" Lucius beamed.

Harry snorted quietly to himself. Lucius obviously loved being the centre of attention. Everyone would come to him for answers once rumours started to spread. He would be holding the secret, the power over everyone else.

"Well then, go and enjoy your evening, Mr Evans." Lucius gestured towards the door that led inside the luxurious mansion.

Harry gave him a playful smile as he passed him. "I'm sure I will make the most out of the night, _Lucius._ "

.

* * *

.

One could hardly believe the boy was anything but a highborn. If Lucius hadn't seen him at the circus, amongst the dirt, the animals and the ragged people, he would have considered himself mistaken.

As it was, the young man had undoubtedly not only been there, but also behaved very much like he felt at home there.

People grew up rich or poor, it was a simple fact of the world. Some might come on hard times later in life, or rise above their station, but everyone was born in one of the two.

However, Harry Evans navigated through the high society with the same ease as the circus. He was neither uncomfortable to be out of his element, nor star-struck at the extravagance of the noble court.

He remained blasé at the luxury around him, clearly not striving to one day live like that.

 _Why._

No matter how graceful for a lowborn, no matter how accepting of his humble fate, Lucius had at the very least expected him to get a taste of the sweet life. Once he'd seen how easy the highborns had it, how could he possibly go back to being a circus performer?

The young man had obviously honed his talent to charm people, that alone should have been proof of a certain ambition. It should have been clear to him that even as the lowest of the low, his looks, cleverness and aptitude would provide him enough to rise in society.

But no, Harry remained dismissive of it all. Maybe the boy truly didn't want to belong with the nobles, despised them maybe, but then why could he dance with them so effortlessly?

Everything about him was just so… excitingly mysterious.

"Might I suggest you at least _glance_ in another direction every five minutes or so?"

Lucius laughed softly at the dry tone of his friend.

"Ah but dear Severus, everything else here is so very _dull_."

Severus stepped up beside him, following his gaze across the room to Harry.

A few seconds ago a group of young men had approached him.

Being younger and more reckless than the older adults meant they were more direct in their advance.

From the way they scrutinized him, Lucius guessed Harry had been 'forced' to reveal his true nature.

Youths who were probably participating in such an important event for the first time got easily drunk on their power.

To discover that the equally young man in front of them was in fact so low on the social ladder they should have never even met face to face, woke their need to bully and tease.

Since Harry stayed impossibly patient and obedient, they became simultaneously more daring and yet also grew more confused as to how to treat him. Harry seemed to comply with everything, while remaining more graceful than they could ever hope to be.

What to do if your prey doesn't feel preyed upon at all?

Lucius really wished Draco's nasty cold wouldn't have prevented him from attending. It was one thing to watch other scions make a fool out of themselves, but when it came to his son Lucius grew very protective.

He wondered whether Draco would have known better than to underestimate the lowborn. Then again, his sheltered upbringing might have led him to do just that. Anyways, Harry would have provided a good learning opportunity.

"He is beautiful," Severus remarked factually.

"Do you think so?" he asked casually.

His friend shot him a dark look. "And very much still lowborn."

Lucius gave him an amused smile. "I'm just studying our experiment."

Severus sneered back at him. "I'm sure you do."

.

* * *

.

The boy's name was Blaise Zabini.

His aristocratic features were bred to perfection, his dark skin a welcomed change from the pristine whiteness all around them. From the look in his eyes down to the shoes he was wearing, everything screamed of an easy life.

He also happened to be a particularly stubborn jackass.

Worse yet, he had a flock of little noble friends with him that seemed to hang on his every word and would just about jump from the roof to get him to look in their direction.

He had endured their constant mockery for at least fifteen minutes now. Many others would have snapped after one, but Harry knew his place in the world. And he liked it too much for them to ruin it.

So what if he bowed and went to his knees, always polite while he let them insult him? They held no sway over him. His deference reduced them to idiots.

"So do lowborns have any features that are, you know, missing? Like parts of their brains?"

 _Complete_ idiots.

While he was indeed very good at keeping his composure no one could last forever. Time to show the little rich boys a bit of fire, or they would still be going on come tomorrow.

"Well, not exactly missing…" Harry said, fidgeting with his hands nervously, intentionally lowering his voice.

Zabini leaned in closer to hear him, his cruel smile growing wider, hoping to finally get some kind of rise out of him. So far Harry had refused to acknowledge his inferiority and it drove them crazy.

"But there's that fact about…uhm, our anatomy…it's a bit embarrassing really," Harry scratched his head sheepishly.

Now the whole group crowded him excitedly, just to hear him confess something shameful.

"Aww, you can tell us," Zabini grinned and the others laughed.

"Well…" Harry began again, then straightened suddenly and looked him directly in the eyes. "Our cocks are abnormally large you see."

Zabini's eyes went impossibly wide, the others staggered back as if Harry had hit them.

Harry just smiled pleasantly.

Then Zabini groaned and hid his face in his hand, before laughing in earnest. "All right circus boy, you win that round."

 _Which round had he lost?_

"You mean your dick _is_ small?" Harry asked wide-eyed and clueless.

Now the whole group was snickering.

Zabini shook his head in fake exasperation. "Can you stop saying these things with a straight face? We have standards around here."

"Oh my mistake then, I didn't know you people were so gentle you forgot you had a pair."

The crowd positively roared with laughter.

"I suppose that solves the mystery what, ah, _position_ , you hold in the circus. Clown isn't it? Do the lowborns really love dick jokes that much?"

"Acrobat actually, sir."

"Acrobat?" Zabini stepped closer again, smelling an opening. "You're good at bending over then?"

"Forwards and backwards," Harry replied instantly, with an innocence no one believed anymore, making it doubly hard for the others to hold in their mirth.

"Would you mind terribly to demonstrate?" Zabini smirked and took another step closer.

Harry stared up at him unfazed. "We have standards," he echoed, earning another round of laughter.

He had to hand it to the Zabini boy, blondie would have flushed scarlet by now.

But the laughter had continuously been on Harry's side for some time now and it was clear that it grated on Zabini's nerve. He couldn't risk losing face, and he looked _this_ close to do something stupid. That would end unpleasant for Harry if he didn't do something now.

So Harry averted his eyes and quickly slid out of his coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as well.

"A demonstration then," he said calmly to the dark skinned boy.

The crowd started jeering and hooting at him.

Zabini looked placated, though his eyes were assessing him a bit more sharply than before.

If he had anything else than air in his brain, he had noticed that it was Harry's free compliance which prevented a nasty crisis.

Harry started on the ground. Highborns liked people around them to be on the ground. He enjoyed the air much more, often disregarding anything but the most basic floor exercises, but these people had no idea what real skill was.

A handstand here, a cartwheel there, finish it off with a simple backflip… A child could do better. A child growing up in the circus that is.

He grabbed some fruits off the nearest table and started juggling them, just for the hell of it.

It was far beneath his real abilities but Harry didn't mind. Oh he could play the fool for them, if he wanted to. If it was done graceful enough their sneer would turn into awe.

And he could laugh behind their backs for admiring simple party tricks that didn't even cost him any concentration.

Highborns might spit on the poor people, but they couldn't help but be fascinated by talents that were actually useful. All they ever got out of life was sitting around, eating their expensive food and discussing the latest fashion trends. Harry almost pitied them.

The small crowd around them clapped politely when he gave them a finishing bow. Harry could see most of them would have done so enthusiastically, if their upbringing hadn't robbed them of showing strong emotions.

Some other people in their vicinity turned their head curiously, wanting to know why they were clapping, but could only see a group of young men standing in a cluster now.

"Impressive," Zabini commented, trying to sound bored.

"Almost as impressive as your mental vacancy," Harry smiled brilliantly. "Sir."

He grabbed his coat and slipped out between the others, knowing it would be better for both of them if Zabini didn't have the chance to reply.

He spent some time mingling near the buffet.

Most of the guests didn't dare to ask him directly where he was from. They tried to coax it out of him with hints and other questions, but never actually _asked_. Harry of course took full advantage of that and never gave them what they wanted.

The few ones that did ask laughed his answer off as a joke. Now that Malfoy wasn't there to tell them, they thought Harry had just an odd sense of humour. Some doubt still seemed to linger.

He grew bored after a while and decided to explore the mansion instead.

He had seen some of the other guests go upstairs or use the adjacent rooms, so Harry guessed as long as it wasn't explicitly stated or locked he was free to go anywhere.

He soon discovered that the rooms on the second and third floor looked very much like the ones on the first. Everything was open and richly decorated, often there was also a small table with more food in it.

Some rooms were occupied by guests, others were deserted, but they all looked pretty much identical and perfect for holding large galas.

He hadn't even found a bathroom yet. He started to wonder whether highborns even needed to shit like normal people.

It wasn't until he got to the fourth floor that Harry saw closed doors. He tried to open some of them and found them locked.

The chatter of the nobles was dulled up here and Harry allowed himself to take a deep breath. The night was young still, surely Lucius would forgive him for abandoning his post for a few more minutes.

Curiously he strolled along the corridor, admiring the paintings that hung on the walls and the flower bouquets that were arranged expertly in their vases.

At the end of the corridor was a large set of double doors, almost as big as the main entrance outside. Disappointed Harry already resigned himself to going back down again, when the knob turned under his hand.

Surprised, he stepped in, wondering why this large room of all places wouldn't be locked.

The room behind the door was indeed large, the ceiling reaching all the way up to the roof. It was rather dimly lit compared to the corridors, but its purpose became clear immediately.

Rows upon rows of high shelves, fully stacked with books and scrolls occupied every space in the big room. Instead of a luxurious chandelier hanging from the ceiling, there were only smaller lamps standing in the corners near the shelves or on little tables.

A few ladders led up to a second and even third balcony that ran all along the walls, bookshelves taking up every place even there.

Harry was more of a practical hands-on type of guy, books didn't really do it for him, but even he was awed at the sight and atmosphere of the large library. Slowly he made his way to the middle of the silent room.

"You shouldn't be here," a silky voice spoke up from one of the corners.

Harry whirled around, recognizing the voice immediately. He really shouldn't have been surprised to meet him in the library.

The man was sitting again, again with a book in his lap, though this time the lamp next to him illuminated him much better.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was just looking for the bathroom?" Harry asked with a sheepish smile.

When the man saw that he had Harry's attention he put the book away and approached him.

He was dressed finely, but compared to the rest of the gathered lords his style was very simple, timeless.

Timeless was also the word Harry would use to describe his age. For the life of him he couldn't guess if the man was barely twenty or nearing his fifties. Nothing on him or around him was personal, nothing gave Harry even the barest hint of his character.

He had aristocratic features alright, but the edges were a bit too sharp, his smile a bit too caustic, his eyes a bit too intense. Dangerous.

Harry could feel the small hairs on his arms and back rising.

The man cocked his head curiously, drinking in Harry's subtle change in posture. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"I'm assuming you people have a different standard as for what passes for pleasure," Harry said warily. "But I suppose it's nice, yes."

"You people," the man repeated slowly, deliberate. "Is that inherent inferiority speaking?"

So the man had come to a conclusion about his social standing. Too bad, he had liked confusing him.

It turned out he might just be like any other attending lord, living their days away without use, getting their only real enjoyment from insulting those of lower standing.

And yet. Something about the man was off. There was too much intent there, too much purpose.

And stranger still, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that the man enjoyed his casual cheekiness, intentionally coaxing it out of him.

Harry smiled. "If anything it would be the opposite, milord."

The man came to a halt right in front of Harry and he had to force himself not to take a step back. The man stood a bit too close for a casual conversation, forcing Harry to crane his neck up.

"An acrobat, I heard."

The man hadn't even been downstairs at the party.

Harry laughed. "Good gods, how do you people spread the word so fast? It's like you're telepathically linked."

"A scary thought."

"Ridiculous, actually. No one would develop any original thoughts," Harry remarked, then let his eyes grow a bit wider in naïve wonder. "You _do_ have original thoughts I hope?"

The man leaned down a bit, his expression an odd mixture of annoyed offence and curious amusement.

"How does it feel," he murmured slowly, eyes never leaving his. "Knowing I could buy your whole circus and parade you around as my performing monkey?"

Harry's smile didn't falter, even though his eyes were spitting fire.

"And how does it feel, knowing I would refuse?" he asked charmingly.

The man took another step, leaving Harry no choice but to move backwards until his back bumped against one of the shelves.

The man looked pleased and Harry narrowed his eyes in irritation. Somehow their talk about stars had changed into something else very fast and Harry hated the loss of control it brought.

He'd had no problems with the nobles downstairs, what was different about this one? He wasn't responding like he should. Unpredictable.

"I shall have you in my colours," the man smirked. "Bending to my every whim."

The sheer arrogance of the bastard almost threw Harry off his game.

But he took a deep breath and leaned a bit forward, standing on tiptoes to get closer to the other's face.

"Never," he whispered sweetly.

The man's smirk only grew wider and for a few seconds all they did was stare each other down.

"What is your name?" the man asked finally.

Harry shrugged. "Insignificant."

The man's head tilted to the side, studying him. "Not if I ask for it."

"You haven't given me yours either," Harry pointed out flippantly.

The man might have enjoyed a certain degree of disrespect, but this was too much. The change happened instantly, like flicking on a light switch.

Harry's head was slammed violently against the shelf behind him, a constricting hand practically choking him.

The suddenness of the physical aggression startled Harry more than the actual pain.

Why on earth would someone like him resort to such measures? It wasn't graceful, wasn't clever. It was brutal.

"Your name," his voice was the pure opposite of his body, still completely calm.

Harry glared at him and merely continued to breathe heavily. The hold tightened, forcing his chin to bend further upwards, exposing more throat to choke.

For the first time in a very long time Harry could feel a spark of inferiority blooming inside him. Not yet helplessness, but apprehension at the lord's sheer dominance, applied so effortless.

"Harry," he bit out.

The hand pressed a bit harder around his throat, an impatient warning.

"Evans. Harry Evans."

The lord released him as suddenly as he had grabbed him. He simply drew back his hand and stepped out of Harry's personal space like nothing had happened.

"I don't think you were on the invitation list."

 _Obviously, no one with that name would be._

"Lucius-…" Harry had to cough from talking too early after the harsh treatment. "Lucius Malfoy. A matter of philosophy, or so he claims."

The man hummed thoughtful. "He always did have a good eye, our dear Lucius."

Harry snorted derisively. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

The man straightened and began moving leisurely towards the doors of the library.

"Well then Mr Evans, I personally recommend the treacle tarts, they're excellent. I hope you enjoy your stay at my home."

The man might have as well slapped him in the face.

" _Your_ -…? You are-"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," the man answered amused, turning back around to look at him. "Or should I say, the eccentric idiot hosting this gathering of arrogant fools."

Harry swore under his breath.

"Language Mr Evans, you're in polite society."

Harry scowled at him and tilted his head up defiantly, showing the visible marks of Riddle's _polite_ treatment.

Riddle's eyes roamed over his throat with thinly veiled glee. He surprised Harry by turning away from the door, to once again step up in front of him.

A hand lay itself exactly over the marks, but gentle this time, nothing but a faint touch. Harry tensed up but refused to move.

"They look good on you."

A hot flash of anger roared up in him at the man's audacity and Harry dropped his act completely, snarling at him.

Strangely enough Riddle's pleasure only seemed to intensify. His hooded gaze became piercing, his smirk satisfied.

"Good evening, Mr Evans."

.

* * *

.

 _ **A/N:** Okay so, the thing is I wrote quite a lot of random parts of this story already (on that weird writing spree I mentioned), and I thought I would get to put a big part of them here now but...uh, didn't happen at all.  
_

 _So I guess you'll get a third chapter before I can let this rest for a bit? Don't get too used to it ;)_


	3. Deal with the Devil

_**A/N:** I tried to update Rebuilt but after writing one sentence all that came out was this. Oops. See that's what happens if I try to work on stories simultaneously.  
_

 _Uhm apparently I never warned you about any pairings? In case that wasn't clear this story will focus on the relationship between Harry and Tom,_ however _, from allies to lovers to vicious enemies I don't know what that dynamic is exactly._

 _Also to anyone who enjoys seeing them on equal grounds: At the beginning Riddle is holding all the advantages, sorry. Harry will claw his way up don't you worry, but for now...poor thing._

 _Enjoy :)_

 _._

* * *

 **Deal with the Devil**

Harry was positively fuming by the time he stormed out of the library.

It had been a while since he'd been so angry at himself. Tom Marvolo _fucking_ Riddle had caught him completely off guard. While Harry had had no chance to know who he was, there was no excuse for just assuming he'd be harmless.

But honestly, what kind of host spent the night of his own party reading a book? Lord Riddle was supposed to be at the centre of everyone's attention, just like he was at the centre of the town's gossip mill and high society alike.

Instead he spent his time talking to a lowborn circus member. What the hell was that man on about? Harry should have been kicked out from the moment they first met. Riddle must have known what he was as soon as he saw him, after all he would have known who he had and had _not_ invited.

Having him in his colours - that obnoxious, arrogant, smug piece of..!

Nobles sponsoring artists was nothing new of course.

Painters, musicians, singers, actors, poets… They were the tame little side projects of the bored aristocrats. The nobles didn't have the skill to entertain themselves, but they had the money to pay for the lives of those who did.

It really wasn't too bad a position to be in. Most of them got their money from the noble and could do what they wanted with his or her time. Many travelled, the colours of their clothes matching the noble's family crest. Representing them while performing their craft, spreading joy throughout the country in their name.

Having a whole circus under their name was a bit unusual, but not unheard of.

Their circus had never actively sought such a sponsorship. They had always just been a random assortment of people, trying to make a living. While they had some very talented artists, a lot of the other members would have to leave because the noble would only pick those whose skills they liked. Their circus was a family, not a company.

Nevertheless, a noble offering to take them on would solve all their monetary problems and could usually be perceived as a compliment. But the way Riddle had _said_ it made Harry want to gag.

It was only his well-trained self-control that got him through the rest of the night.

It might have also helped that wherever Riddle had disappeared to, he was nowhere in sight downstairs and never once appeared during his gala.

What Lucius actually wanted to see was anyone's guess, but the evening passed in much the same light as it had begun. Some encounters were boring, others had him grit his teeth, a few actually amused him.

He also got to meet Narcissa Malfoy. A woman that was cold in all the places her husband was flamboyant, and warm in all the places he was cruel.

Even though she was quieter than Lucius, she still obviously shared his love and skill for socializing. Seeing them work together made it clear to Harry how the name Malfoy was constantly gaining in prestige.

How the pair had befriended Severus Snape was beyond Harry.

At the end of the evening Harry was convinced the sullen man hadn't exchanged a single word with anyone, not even with Lucius. His eyes however, seemed to observe everyone and his ears following every conversation.

Despite his rapt attention, he showed absolutely no desire to talk with anyone. Harry wondered if he was truly not interested, or if he furtively stored away thousands of secrets in silence.

What an odd man.

Almost as curious as a host that didn't attend his own gala. Weirder still, how none of the guests seemed to expect his presence.

At the end of the night Lucius appeared pleased, but otherwise the reason for his 'experiment' seemed mostly forgotten.

When the lord dropped a purse in Harry's hand he didn't bother to count the contents. Judging from the weight alone it was safe to assume it was more than they made in three nights.

Adding in the sum Harry would obtain from selling the expensive clothes…well. Money _did_ soothe many wounds. Harry had to admit that even Riddle's arrogance wasn't enough to outweigh his gain.

He was already going over all the things they could finally buy and mend with the additional money, when he made it back to the circus.

The sight of it however, changed his mood drastically once again.

It was well past the late hours, the morning sun only about an hour away. By all accounts the circus should appear deserted, everyone getting their well-earned rest.

Instead, the torches were lit and many members still mingled in the open space between the tent and the trailers.

He briefly wondered if he'd forgotten about an important celebration, but discarded the thought immediately.

There was no music, which was very odd for the circus. The people who were up and about mostly stood in small groups or sat on the stairs in front of their trailers. Dejected.

Something awful and dark woke in his stomach. A nameless terror he fought to keep down, his mind frantically trying to stay sensible.

It wasn't like someone was lying dead on the ground. Nothing was disturbed, everything still intact. There was no reason to assume…anything at all really.

And yet.

The small voice in his head, forced down to a whisper over the past years, came back full-force as if it had never left.

 _Tik tok, Harry Potter. Did you really think you could just hide and stay happy forever?_

His vision narrowed, blackness creeping along its edges and for a short moment Harry thought he might faint.

Hermione flung her arms around him, snapping Harry out of the darkness and back to the circus, back home.

"Oh Harry, thank gods you're here!"

No accusation, no question where he'd been, just that she was glad he was here now. He still felt undeserving to have found such friends.

Harry steadied himself as she slowly let go of him, her face resolute but with shimmering eyes, precariously close to tears.

He gulped, trying to force his voice to cooperate. "What happened?"

Everything inside of him was focused on the task to keep himself from screaming blindly at her.

 _Is it my fault? Hermione tell me, is it my fault?...again._

"We- we were just getting ready for the show, everything was normal. We gathered quite the crowd as well! And then the collectors came and-…"

"Collectors?" Harry echoed confused. "Collecting what?"

"Money obviously. They-…"

"You mean we were robbed?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "No, Harry listen, we are in debt."

He looked at her, almost expecting her to lie but she was about the last person on earth who would lie in a situation like this.

"Since _when_?" he asked.

"From what Arthur told us this circus was living off a loan for almost a decade now."

"What?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Did you know?"

"No, why do you think everyone is so shocked?" Hermione gestured to the people standing around gloomily. "Only Arthur and Molly knew. It's their business, they are managing everything and the finances especially. They were slowly paying it back you know? Keeping the collectors happy. But now they increased the interest or got impatient or something, I didn't really get that. Anyways, the Weasleys owe them money big time."

"How much? If we all-…"

She interrupted him with another shake of hear head, her untamed hair following the brisk motion. "Harry don't you think we've gone through every possibility already?"

"How much Hermione?" he asked again, reaching into his clothes for the pouch Lucius has given him. "I have three or four nights worth right here I-…"

"What? Where did you..?" she began perplexed, then apparently decided to drop it. "It doesn't matter, it's not enough. It would be almost a year's worth, if we wouldn't have any expenses at all."

"Then we just leave," Harry said hurriedly. "Like we do when we overstay our welcome and people get unfriendly. We just pack our things and-…"

"Oh Harry," Hermione hiccupped, tears beginning to flow silently down her cheeks. "They have Ron."

"What?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"They already beat up Arthur and Bill pretty bad. We had to hold back Charlie and the twins or they would have gotten hurt as well. And when they left they just…dragged Ron with them. They said if we can't pay them when they come back tomorrow they'll…they'll…" Hermione trailed off.

She didn't have to finish. No one would care about law and justice if the victim was a mere circus artist.

"So what…What do we do? There must be something we can do!" Harry looked at her almost beseechingly. The circus was everything to him, something that finally offered a life for him.

"Sell them the circus," Hermione shrugged dejectedly. "We will all have lost our livelihood come tomorrow."

"And go where?"

"Split up. Hope for the best."

Just another lowborn beggar on the street, trying to avoid the gallows when stealing a loaf of bread. Harry would be okay, somehow. He'd had it worse. But the Weasleys, a whole family… Hermione, a dirt poor orphan girl. At least she was smart. What about Luna, constantly dreaming? Neville?

"Hope for the best?" he echoed speechlessly. "Hermione…"

She resolutely wiped away her tears. "I'll be fine. Girls always find a way to earn money."

"Hermione!"

"I'll try everything else first of course," she said matter-of-factly. "All I'm saying is it's just a body when it comes down to it."

He looked at her aghast, his stomach revolting at the very idea of imagining her in that life.

"Stop looking at me like that Harry Evans! If you need to worry, do it for the Weasleys. They won't find work to feed a whole family. They'll be torn apart and…and Neville, gods. Someone like him will die on the streets within a week!"

Harry clenched his fists, his jaw tense, resolute. "No."

"No?" Hermione repeated distraught. "Well, he can always get lucky-…"

"No, I mean…" he took a deep breath, his nerves finally settling, calm resolution taking their place. "I won't accept it."

She scowled at him furiously. "You think _I_ want to accept it?!"

"You won't have to. I'll do something," he said with finality.

"Do _what_? Harry you can't save everyone and this isn't your fault. You aren't responsible for us."

"You are the only family I'll ever have and-…"

"And we worry about you!" she interrupted him insistently. "You can't just risk your life for us and go- go rob the whole highborn quarter or something."

He chuckled softly at her reaction. "I wasn't planning anything illegal."

She frowned. "No other money lender will deal with us while we're in debt, Molly already tried."

"It's not a money lender. It will be freely given and permanent."

He stated it evenly and tried to make it sound reasonable. It seemed to have the opposite effect, for now she definitely looked suspicious.

"In exchange for what?"

He surveyed the circus around them, their big tent and the dozens of trailers, the people mingling not far from them. And if he had to take the goddamn sun out of the sky and sell it to save them, he would.

He turned back around to where he came from. "That will be my problem."

"No, Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm, holding him back. Something in his expression must have shown her that his mind was set, for she slowly withdrew. "At least…at least tell me what it will cost you. I won't be able to live with myself if, if…"

"Just my pride Hermione," he said hollowly. "And we all know it's the only thing we have left."

.

* * *

.

"Mr Evans," Lord Riddle greeted him as the servant showed Harry into the library. "Why am I not surprised?"

The sun had already been up when Harry had made it back to the gates of Riddle manor. Now it shone brightly outside, yet the library offered few possibilities for the light to enter. The big room only had a few windows that weren't completely blocked by shelves, keeping the library in the same half-light as the lamps did during the night.

"Yes, why _aren't_ you surprised?" Harry shot back through clenched teeth.

Riddle - once again focused on a book in his lap - looked up in faint amusement at his vicious comment.

"You will find that hardly anything surprises me."

"You have my deepest apologies for your dull life, milord."

"Ah," the lord said meaningfully, closing the book carefully and gently placed it back into the shelf beside his chair. The care he showed for the simple action stood in stark contrast to his volatile outburst from yesterday.

"But imagine the undiluted excitement I feel, if per chance something _does_ surprise me."

Harry bit his tongue and remained quiet while Riddle stood up fluently and walked a few steps over to the only bigger table in the room. He leaned on the no doubt priceless old wooden desk casually, facing Harry.

A cane leaned beside him, an almost obligatory accessory for someone of his standing. Most noble men treated theirs like beloved pets. Riddle took his carelessly and absentmindedly started to twirl it around.

Similar to his refusal to wear the bright flashy colours that were currently in fashion and his reluctance to host parties, Riddle seemed utterly dismissive of the status symbol.

"I take it the collectors have become impatient already?" the lord asked after a while, when it became clear that Harry would stay silent.

Someone like him shouldn't even have known there was a circus in town, let alone anything about their debt.

"You knew and yet you just talked to me like-…" Harry broke off before he could say something he would regret and clenched his fists instead.

He had sworn to himself to keep his composure. No matter how much the noble vexed him. No matter how degrading his demands would be. Harry would give him everything and more if it would save them.

"Before you draw all the wrong conclusion from the little information you have," Riddle said silkily, "I had neither anything to do with your current predicament, nor was I aware of your circus' debt until recently. It was only brought to my attention because last week a son killed his father to take over his business. It caused quite the stir, but was eventually left alone because they were lowborn money lenders. I imagine their, ah, business strategy has changed a bit since then."

The lord seemed content to let him ponder on the story for a while, obviously waiting for Harry to speak up first.

Eventually, Harry took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and willed himself to do what he came to do. "Does your offer still stand?"

Riddle stopped playing with the cane, tilting his head curiously. "Is that how you ask something from someone of higher standing than you?"

"I make it a point not to ask anything of anyone," Harry said bitterly. He was failing horribly at that.

Riddle hummed thoughtfully. "You want a favour little one? Come here."

Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to unclench his fists again, but he forced himself to approach the lord. He held his chin up and his eyes defiantly refused to break contact with the noble's.

They stood about one arm's length apart, Riddle still leaning on the table behind him, but even so he towered over Harry.

Riddle chuckled. "So much _pride_."

His cane flicked up to brush against Harry's cheekbones. Harry supressed a wince at the cold touch of the metal. He also quenched his urge to grab the thing and bash it against the lord's head. It would be rather counterproductive to what he was trying to achieve.

"I shall gladly teach you some basic manners. For example, on such a particular occasion," Riddle continued, the cane suddenly coming down onto Harry's shoulder, a bit of pressure pushing it down. "One kneels."

It was nothing he hadn't expected.

He kept his face carefully blank, refusing to show any reaction that would have betrayed how much it affected him.

It was usually much easier than this. To pretend, to play along. But there was something about Riddle that stripped the layers of his fake submission away, making it all too real.

He gracefully went to his knees, the cane nudging him further until he was bowing low, almost touching the floor. Then it retreated and Harry almost wished it hadn't. Now there was nothing he could use for his own pretence. He kneeled on his own free will and he hated every second of it.

"There you go." The lord's satisfied voice was almost a whisper.

Harry was concentrating on not throwing up. "I ask of you-…"

The lord tsked harshly and Harry had to breathe in several times to calm himself.

Sadistic bastard.

"I _beg_ of you," he said unemotionally, certain that he could _feel_ the lord's smirk on his back from above. "Please consider giving us financial support."

The cane came back, this time under his chin, lifting his head up until Riddle could scrutinize his face without having to lean down.

"Such pretty words for something that can be said much simpler."

He wanted him to repeat his own words back to him. Of course. Aristocratic piece of shit.

He kept his voice steady and even. "Please consider buying us."

Riddle discarded the cane on the table, leaving Harry to do what he wanted with his head. He kept it up, even though his neck was straining from the weird position.

"I have zero interest in that little group of misfits of yours. Only you. Are you worth a whole circus, Harry?"

The use of his first name sounded strangely enough more sincere than Riddle calling him _mister._

The question however, brought him up short momentarily.

"I am acutely aware of my place in this world milord, to be honest I assumed you didn't think it worth your while talking to me yesterday."

After all, no other noble would talk to someone like Harry if there were better alternatives around.

"Mr Evans," Riddle smirked, switching names again. "I assure you if you weren't worth my time you would have never set foot into my manor, let alone my personal library."

Harry frowned, not knowing how to take that statement. "What do you want me to say? Because as you undoubtedly realized, I am desperate enough to say it."

Riddle sighed, almost disappointed. It confirmed his hypothesis that the lord was bored by compliance.

"I merely want us to be very clear what I'm buying."

Harry could feel an angry flush spreading on his cheeks. He was trying not to snarl at him, but probably did a bit anyways, because the corner of the lord's mouth tugged upwards.

"You're hardly the first one who's trying," he spat acidly.

Though he would be the first to succeed.

"Look at you, trembling on your knees," Riddle mocked.

Harry clenched his fists until his nails dug into his skin and ripped it open.

This was for his friends. This was for Hermione and Ginny, who would have no other choice than to turn to whoring. This was for Ron who would probably do something incredibly stupid and get himself killed. This was for Arthur and Molly, who had taken him in without questions and did not deserve to see their family starve on the streets.

He couldn't put the happiness of his friends, his family, above his own damn pride.

His fists relaxed. His expression cleared into a blank mask.

"Do you plan to spend all that money so you can taunt me or will you actually do something?"

Riddle chuckled, his eyes shining bright from amusement.

"As tempting as your 'I'll do anything' attitude is…" he leaned down closely, a spidery finger ghosting over his bottom lip, daring him to react. "Because it _is_ very tempting…" He straightened again. "Believe it or not, what I require of you are in fact your skills."

Harry looked at him sceptically. "As a circus acrobat?"

"You're fast, incredibly light on your feet, agile. Graceful as well, fluid like a shadow. Quick witted and a born actor."

He quirked an eyebrow when Harry remained silent. "That's usually the part where people are flattered."

"You told me nothing I don't know already." Harry bit the inside of his cheeks as soon as he said it, cursing his fast tongue.

He had lost count of how many times he had already slipped in Riddle's presence. And still he was no closer to figuring out why his usual aloofness failed him when it came to the lord.

Riddle thankfully only seemed to find humour in his arrogant declaration.

"Make no mistake," the lord continued. "I do want your body in a way. I want you to be my tool, my weapon, nothing but a vessel of my will."

A chill ran down Harry's spine. A puppet.

"Tell me Harry, to save your little circus, can you kill?"

He couldn't stop the horror from entering his eyes.

No.

He'd been through that.

Never again.

Riddle must have seen the answer on his face. "Yes, I thought not."

Harry managed to breathe again.

"Can you steal at least?"

"What for?"

The backhand came out of nowhere, whipping Harry's head around and leaving him slightly dazed.

With a stinging cheek, Harry tried to analyse his last question, deciding that it hadn't been particularly bold at all, certainly not compared to other things he'd said before.

He couldn't remember ever meeting someone so unpredictable.

"That is not for you to know." Riddle's voice was ice cold.

"Yes," Harry gritted out, turning his head back into an upright position.

"Yes what?"

"Yes I can steal for you," Harry said calmly, while his eyes glared at him openly.

"And?"

"Yes it is not my place to question why."

Just because he wasn't allowed to voice his questions didn't mean they would go away. His head was filling up with possible reasons why Riddle with all his money wanted to steal things, and why he asked him of all people to do the job.

He didn't like the answers his mind conjured up.

He would know the real one soon enough, of that Harry was certain. Riddle might appear omniscient at first glance, but Harry had a way of getting what he wanted as well.

"You will have to be flawless," Riddle continued, placated for now. "If anyone even so much as catches a glimpse of your moving shadow you _will_ have to kill them."

He could handle that. He would have to be exceedingly careful, but it lay in his own hands at least. No one would die, because whatever Riddle had in store for him, Harry would succeed.

"No one will see me," Harry vowed to himself, saying it aloud for Riddle's benefit.

"Shall we draw up a contract then?"

The lord reached behind himself and picked up pen and paper from the desk.

Harry's expression darkened. He had already shown so much weakness today, his stomach lurched at the idea of confessing another one. Especially since Riddle for once didn't seem to know.

"I insist to do it verbally," he said, drawing Riddle's curious gaze immediately back to himself. Harry pursed his lips in displeasure. "I can't read or write."

The lord seemed genuinely surprised. He felt the thousands of books surrounding them silently judging him.

"What, you think they teach lowborns nowadays? We wouldn't even be allowed inside a school if we payed double."

If you were really lucky you were born with parents that could teach you at home. The secrets of language and numbers passed down like a family heirloom, securing better jobs for their children.

If he had really set his mind to it Harry could have probably learnt it _somehow_. But you didn't need maths to perform in a circus and you certainly didn't have time to appreciate fancy books.

"No of course not," Riddle amended. "I just assumed…and I was wrong."

He sounded both thoughtful and delighted at his own error.

"Well, that simply won't do," he continued. "It's highly inconvenient for certain…things…you'll need to procure. I will teach you."

The last thing Harry wanted was to receive lessons from this particular lord.

"Surely someone else would have more time-"

Once again Riddle's movements were almost too fast to register, but this time Harry knew what to expect from the blur.

Half of his face was prickling unpleasantly from the sting of Riddle's force, but Harry had refused to let his head be moved again, even though it would have averted some of the pain.

Instead he raised it a fraction higher, glaring at Riddle haughtily.

"Head down boy, or I use my cane on your skull the next time," the lord's voice was dangerously low.

Harry forced himself to break eye-contact.

"I will teach you," Riddle repeated. "And you will be grateful for every letter."

"Yes milord," Harry said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm completely.

"In the case of a verbal contract we will need a third party, but this should be nothing more but a formality."

He rang a bell and a servant peeked into the room. Upon a signal from Riddle the servant nodded deferentially and left quickly.

"You have met Severus have you not?" Riddle asked.

At the thought of someone else, someone he had met, seeing him in this position caused Harry to bolt up partially before remembering he had sworn to himself to remain obedient.

The lord tutted amused. "Heel boy."

Harry snapped. With a snarl he sprung up, his body twisting to attack, his fist already flying in the direction of the lord's face before he was even realizing what he was doing.

He was well trained and especially proud of his reflexes, but Riddle was faster still.

The sharp, pointed end of an ornamented letter opener was placed with learnt precision under his chin, freezing his assault just inches from Riddle's nose. Harry didn't dare to move, his fist still raised.

"My," Riddle chuckled. "And here I was wondering where all that fire went. Never think that I don't appreciate your fierce pride, little one."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You have an odd way of showing it."

"That tongue of yours though, will need to be restrained," Riddle tsked. "If you still want to ask me your favour, stay. down."

Harry warily took a few steps back and sunk down to his knees.

"Just out of curiosity," Riddle said casually. "Would it help if I praise you?"

Harry's head snapped up, several vicious responses on the tip of his tongue.

The lord smirked. "I thought so."

Smug bastard.

"I have watched you yesterday," Riddle said after a while. "You bowed frequently and did so with ease. Yes sirs, milords and other honorifics fall easily from your tongue, even in the face of blatant disrespect. They could have spilled their wine and told you to lick it from the floor and I half believe you would have done it, still not giving them the satisfaction of letting it bother you."

So the lord had been at the gala after all, even though no one could see him.

"And yet here you are, trembling in disgust at the mere idea of kneeling in front of me," Riddle continued amused. "Why is that, Mr Evans?"

Harry didn't respond, partially because he wasn't sure himself, partially because he didn't want Riddle to know that he was an exception.

"You seem used to extravagance," the lord stated, his eyes hungrily waiting for Harry to give him any sort of reaction that would confirm or deny his claims. He would find none.

"A lowborn that wants to be lowborn, but refuses to kneel. You're a puzzle and did I mention I like surprises? From the moment I saw you…" Riddle's voice was practically a purr now. "So many fascinating contradictions."

"You seem to know a great deal about me," Harry said wryly.

Riddle smirked in self-satisfaction. "I have eyes everywhere."

"I assume you had a chat with Malfoy."

"Lucius has many uses, though regarding information I like it to be a bit more objective and ordered. Lucius is good at spotting a pretty stone. Severus sees hundreds ways to use it. They work well together."

Harry didn't need to ask for whom they were working, the answer was clear. Highborns and lesser nobles working for someone more powerful was common place, but lords such as Malfoy or Snape?

"Work on _what_?" he asked instead.

They were interrupted by the sound of the library door opening.

Snape entered, looking exactly like he had yesterday and with the same blank look on his face. He didn't falter when he saw Harry there, even though he couldn't have expected him.

"We will still need to write it down of course," Riddle addressed Harry, neither him nor Snape had greeted each other. "But it will be done by the witness."

He handed pen and paper over to Snape, who took the things mutely. If he was confused by any of this he didn't show it.

"Mr Evans and I are about to enter a patron-protégé contract," Riddle went on and Snape started writing. "I want it to be clear that the contract is only between us two, but that it includes every member of the circus. I will settle every current debt the circus is in and continue to cover all costs that will befall them in the future. If Mr Evans here should fail to honour our agreement or step out of place, I will have the whole group stripped of their possessions and exiled."

Riddle surprised Harry by crouching down himself, so their faces were on the same level.

"The punishment to get caught is death. The punishment no to get caught, but arrive empty handed to me, is also death. And once you are dead our arrangement won't hold up."

"I'll be perfect."

Riddle scrutinized him attentively. "Interesting choice of words."

Snape finished writing and handed the paper back. Riddle started to heat up a lump of wax over a candle and Snape left as silently as he had come, not once looking directly down at Harry.

"You can write your own name I hope?" the lord asked evenly.

He had finished pressing his seal onto the document and held out the pen to him. Harry took it as an invitation to finally stand up.

He took the pen and scrawled his name awkwardly at the bottom of the page. Next to Riddle's elegant signature and Snape's neat letters it looked atrocious.

Riddle folded the paper delicately, putting it into an envelope of equally rich quality and sealed it with another blob of wax.

"Am I going to regret this?"

"Yes," Harry said immediately, every ounce of stored vehemence and conviction feeding the single word.

Riddle looked pleased.

He handed him the finished contract and only smiled thinly when Harry snatched it rudely.

Harry turned around abruptly and walked briskly towards the exit, clutching the envelope tightly.

He wanted to tear the paper apart that bound him to Lord Riddle and at the same time knew it to be foolish. He had come here out of his own volition and asked for it.

"By the way my colours are green and silver. They will look especially good on you."

Harry scoffed. "Are you sure black wouldn't suit your soul more?"

"Oh absolutely," the lord smirked. "Alas it is tradition to use the colours of the family crest. If you want to wear the colours of my soul we can arrange that in other ways, Harry."

Harry shut the door behind him with unnecessary force.

At least the circus would be saved and his friends spared. It was worth it.

It had to be.

.

* * *

.

 ** _A/N:_** _Dear Mr Riddle, I cannot wait for Harry to get some dirt on you.  
_

 _Soooo. As I mentioned before this story will be put a bit aside for the time being (no honestly, I mean it this time). I am_ not _abandoning it, but I need to A) figure out where the hell it's going to go B) find some time to write it._

 _There might be occasional updates when it comes back to haunt me, otherwise expect it to continue once one of my other stories is finished (and pray to the gods I don't start another one (honestly, pls help me))._

 _See you around :)_


	4. A lesson in banter

_**A/N:** *flings laptop through room* *throws hands up in surrender*  
Okay how about y'all just ignore whatever the hell I'm saying and sit tight for random updates, because _obviously _I have no control over what I'm doing and even less self-control.  
_

 _I really didn't want to update this story but heh, I take what I can get. Many many thanks for all your amazing reviews!_

 _Enjoy :)_

 _._

* * *

 **A lesson in banter**

They got Ron back the next morning. Roughened up, starved and thoroughly shaken, but alive and well.

The circus had been understandably awed and ecstatic about Harry's news. The lord's sponsorship came out of nowhere, and didn't just solve their present troubles, but negated all future worries as well. And it was Tom Riddle of all nobles… The people were flabbergasted. Nothing was known about his interests in arts.

They praised the gods. Harry knew they owed it to the devil.

Enthusiastically the members got together and reformed the circus. The things the collectors had destroyed were repaired, wagons were given a fresh layer of paint, new clothes were sown. Everything to look presentable, and in the appropriate colours of course, the members were eager to please the man who had saved them from a dire fate in the last minute.

There were even discussions about painting the circus tent in green and silver, instead of the traditional red and white stripes. Harry argued fiercely against it, to the surprise of everyone, and eventually they dropped the idea.

Hermione seemed to be the only one who picked up on Harry's strong dislike for the whole ordeal. She didn't press the subject, but from the heavy looks she sent his way he knew she suspected something. It didn't surprise him, as she was arguably the cleverest amongst them and also the one who had seen him before he had gone to Riddle.

She didn't poke at his reasons, but she did eventually call him out on it, shortly before their first show in their new look. They couldn't keep the circus closed any longer. People, _important_ people, nobles, now wanted to see their performance.

"Harry you still aren't dressed."

"I'll be ready for the show, Hermione, I promise," Harry sighed, heading towards his trailer.

"That's not an option any more, people expect you to wear them when they see you. And look! A few are already coming, quick Harry," she said worriedly. "Just think of them as uniforms."

He glanced towards the city, where indeed a small crowd was making their way to the circus. A few excited children with their families were already mingling about. But those were the usual crop of lowborns they got. The arriving group was obviously highborn, you could see it in the way they dressed and walked. Worse, they were nobles.

In the dying half-light of the day Harry's eyes fell on the first man sauntering into their little circle of trailers. Harry's whole body tensed up.

"Fuck."

Only twice he met the man, and already his silhouette was as familiar as Harry's reflection in the mirror.

"What?" Hermione asked, craning her neck to glimpse what had Harry so enraptured.

"It's him. It's Riddle."

"Lord Riddle is here? Oh Harry, hurry. You'll have to greet him."

Harry stiffened even further. "The twins can do it just fine. You could. Hell, everyone can I don't care."

"Don't be ridiculous. Lord Riddle struck the deal with you, obviously he expects to talk to _you_."

 _You have no idea, Hermione._

He was about to head up the few stairs to his trailer but from across the place Riddle's head snapped around, impossibly zooming in on him instantly. He froze as the lord slowly turned towards them, casually strolling over.

Hermione made a series of distressed noises beside him. "You aren't even wearing the appropriate clothes yet. I don't know why you don't like him much Harry, but we really owe him a lot. What should we do?"

Harry forced himself to exhale and straightened, remaining on the lowest step of his stairs. Maybe this way he could at least even out their heights.

Hermione was obviously jittery, but in the end she was one of them, a performer, and nerves were nothing new. When Riddle finally stood in front of them she was calmer than Harry, who stood there completely stiff.

Though maybe that was because she didn't have to endure the brutality of Riddle's focus.

"Mr Evans," the lord greeted.

His eyes quickly seized him up and a small smirk crept on his face when he noted the distinct lack of green and silver in his clothes.

"Lord Riddle."

Hermione managed a graceful courtesy, Harry was trying to remember how to move.

Riddle's eyes temporarily drifted over to Hermione, who smiled at him. "It's an honour to meet you."

Riddle marginally inclined his head. "Likewise, Miss, ah…"

"Granger, milord. Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger," Riddle nodded politely.

As if he held any true regard for any of them. As if he didn't think of them as lower than the dirt under his shoes. It made Harry's skin crawl.

The lord's eyes shifted back to Harry. Hermione immediately picked up on the subtle dismissal, realizing her presence was superfluous, had been from the start. Her eyes darted briefly to Harry, imploring him not to fuck up, then she left them quietly.

Riddle was _still_ a bit taller than him, gods damn the bastard. The lord's smirk widened, either because he once again had telepathically picked up his thoughts, or because Harry's rigid silence was indication enough.

"Looking for evening entertainment, Lord Riddle?" Harry was proud how controlled his voice sounded, almost reaching his normal playful tone.

The lord's eyes lit up contented. "A break from usual habits, so to speak."

"No books tonight?"

Riddle reached into the folds of his cloak, producing a small leather bound book. Long fingers stroked the spine lovingly.

"Just a single companion."

Harry would have laughed earnestly at the man's obsession, if Riddle's presence hadn't been so suffocating.

"Specially selected?"

"I've only read it twice so far," Riddle said, looking directly at Harry. "I'm eager to see what the third time will reveal."

Harry deliberately remained silent, determined to _reveal_ as little as possible about himself.

The lord looked around, his eyes lingering on the green and silver that now adorned their camp.

"I like what you've done with the place," he said, watching Harry slyly.

He knew how much the circus meant to Harry, knew it was his home he had invaded with his colours, his presence crawling into the niches of Harry's peace.

"Why thank you," Harry replied drily.

His tone was acrid, but the words still polite and obviously not the reaction Riddle had hoped for.

"You should change soon though," the lord continued idly. "I wouldn't want you to forget who you belong to."

There was a moment of blackness as cold fury washed over Harry and he was half convinced he had attacked the lord again. But as his senses returned he saw Riddle unharmed, devouring every clench of Harry's muscles.

And something in his calculative stare, something that wasn't cold or precise, but burning and uncontrolled, clicked into place.

The man _loved_ to goad him. He loved seeing him react.

No one at court would dare to stand up to him. It wasn't so much a matter of propriety as it was a simple part of their beings, ingrained in them since birth. No matter how much pride they had, bowing to those of even higher standing was in their nature.

Riddle must be bored out of his mind with them.

But he knew Harry could, had seen him do it. Hissing and spitting, refusing to see himself as anything but equal, trading insults with insults.

The lord was determined to pull it out of him again. Because it amused him oh so much to put him back into place.

Harry pressed his lips together firmly. There was no way he would be able to hide the fiery anger in his eyes, but he didn't need to give the lord any more satisfaction than that.

He had never believed in controlling his emotions, but he did believe in absolute control over his body.

His muscles went slack and he dipped his head respectfully. "I am at your service, milord."

The lord cocked his head curiously, studying him intently for any sign of reaction. Every highborn Harry had come across was fighting to make a lowborn like him submit. They were delighted when he showered them with fake respect.

For Riddle however, Harry's submission was the ultimate rejection.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," the lord purred, spidery fingers lifting Harry's chin back up. "What am I to do with you?"

Suddenly curious just how far he could push the lord Harry replied evenly, "Whatever you want, sir."

The hand on his chin flung to the back of his head, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head up sharply. And still Harry refused to react, forcing his body to stay lax in Riddle's grip.

"Careful, little one," the lord hissed, but his eyes were hooded with pleasure. "I might take you up on that."

He didn't let go of him and Harry could only imagine what a sight they must make. To top it off they stood in the open for anyone to see who cared to look. The nerve of that man.

"I expect an immaculate show."

"Of course, milord."

"You will be in every act."

That was fucking impossible. How on earth would he even adapt their program that quickly? What would he even say to the others? That arrogant, entitled, self-righteous-…

"As you wish."

He had never been good at turning down a challenge.

Riddle chuckled, his fingers stroking once through Harry's hair before retreating. "Aren't you going to show me to my seat?"

Harry pretended not to notice the lingering touch. He walked down from the step, hating the way the action inevitably lowered him further.

"Right this way, milord."

.

* * *

.

Harry managed to stay in the ring for the entirety of the show. Apparently _'Riddle said he wants'_ were the new magic words in the circus. They had their practiced routines for their shows of course, but improvisation hadn't hurt anyone yet.

Yet.

Harry ran a hand over his face, hoping to rub the tiredness away. The shows were exhausting enough with his acts when he was given time to recover backstage. Performing two hours straight was insane. And then there was Riddle…

Harry remembered the lord's eyes on him during the show and suppressed a shudder. The physicality of the man's attention was unnatural.

And it certainly hadn't helped with his concentration during the show. He'd powered through on pure stubbornness, refusing to make mistakes despite being distracted.

"V.I.P at six o'clock," one of the twins whispered to him as they passed him in front of the tent.

Harry groaned. "Thanks for the warning."

The twins were soon swept up in a horde of excited children which demanded their attention. Clowns sure had it nice, always attracting the most innocent of their audience.

"Mr Evans!"

Harry closed his eyes briefly as he realized that Riddle hadn't come alone. Slowly he turned around.

"Lord Malfoy."

"Lucius."

"Lucius," Harry accepted and nodded to the third lord. "Lord Snape."

Riddle alone was bad enough. Riddle _and_ Malfoy and Snape _after_ a thoroughly exhausting show? A nightmare.

Harry mustered the three nobles that stood before him and had to supress a smile at the differences between them.

Blondie was once again obviously in his element and obviously enjoying himself, all but brimming with manic energy. Snape had a fascinating way of toning down his presence to practically nothing, his face locked in a perpetual scowl. Riddle stood between them, inscrutable.

"I see you've honoured us with your presence a second time," Harry said, directing his attention back to Malfoy.

"It's the only way I know to find you," blondie laughed.

He handed him another card.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Another experiment?"

"The same. A follow-up, you might call it."

"Were the previous results not to your satisfaction?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Rest assured, they exceeded my expectations."

The card was not in an envelope and Harry carefully folded it open. It looked almost exactly like the one for Riddle's gala, but he had a feeling the lord wouldn't ignore the opportunity to invite him himself. Also he really didn't seem to enjoy his own gatherings, so he wouldn't have one so soon again. Harry tried to make sense of the words and letters, but settled for looking at Malfoy expectantly.

"I hope you'll accept, even if it's just my own humble home this time," Malfoy said jokingly.

Harry tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He _really_ didn't want to step inside blondie's home.

This was supposed to be a one-time thing. One harmless gala for a bit of extra money. Interacting with the nobles on a regular basis was the last thing Harry wanted. But with Lord Riddle himself taking an interest in Harry and the circus, there was no way Malfoy would let him slip away now.

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Malfoy."

"Lucius."

Harry hid a sigh with a short bow. "Lucius."

Riddle stepped forward. "Walk with me."

Harry's temper flared at the casual command, but he turned and followed the lord. Riddle led him away from the crowd gathering in front of the tent, between the trailers and cages.

After their shows many people could be persuaded to take a closer look at their animals for a bit of extra money, but now they were only just flooding out of the tent. The Weasley brothers would only now begin to gather them and the lanes between the trailers were deserted.

The chattering and music became dampened with the distance, and soon moonlight was their only source of light after leaving the illuminated place behind.

Riddle's brisk walk slowed down to a stroll.

"I will expect you at seven tomorrow."

"In the morning?" Harry asked.

It was near midnight already. And walking all the way to Riddle manor took him almost an hour. Did the man expect him not to sleep anymore? At this rate he would be lucky to catch five hours of sleep and his body was exhausted from tonight.

"Is that a problem?" Riddle asked innocently.

Of course it was a goddamn problem. Sleep-deprivation wasn't Harry's favourite way of dealing with arrogant highborns.

"Not at all, sir."

"And dress accordingly," the lord traced his green and silver coloured outfit with thinly veiled glee. "Remember you represent me at all times."

"Of course, milord."

Riddle stopped, looking down at him with an amused smirk.

"So obedient tonight," he taunted. "And impressive," he added after a while.

Harry frowned, considering the directness of the compliment. Apparently the lord was trying a new strategy to elicit a reaction.

"I'm honoured, milord."

Riddle snorted. "Dear me, it's like talking to a dog that barks in response."

Harry blinked at him, keeping a completely straight face. "Woof."

"Little one..." the lord said warningly, leaning down slightly to bring their faces closer together in the dim moonlight. "Predictability is boring. You do not want to bore me."

"We made a deal Lord Riddle, riveting conversations weren't in it."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt."

The man had clearly never hit his own damn face.

"I got what I wanted," Harry said curtly.

"Shame," Riddle sighed. "And here I was hoping to offer your friend Granger a solo performance in higher circles. She's quite talented, I'm sure she would make the best of the opportunity."

That _bastard._

Harry had miscalculated gravely. He had thought if the whole circus was included in the deal they would be safe from threats and thus one thing less to worry about. He hadn't thought about the fact that offers would render him just as open to manipulations.

"What do you want?" he pressed out.

Riddle chuckled. "Now you're just insulting your own intelligence."

They remained silent until they reached the edge of the camp.

"Until tomorrow, Mr Evans."

.

* * *

.

Harry had to get up at dawn and he cursed Riddle all the way through the city for it.

Before going to sleep he had had to tell his friends that he would probably be gone all morning. When Mrs Weasley had learnt that he would be going to Lord Riddle she had wanted to give him some of her baked cookies to give to him. Harry had patiently talked her out of the idea.

The clothes he wore were thrown together a bit haphazardly. They only had had time to sew new clothes for their shows so far. His shirt was white, which was the closest thing to silver he could find, and from the circus' shared pile of clothes he had selected a dark green coat that was made from rather fine material, but only fit him approximately and he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows to cover it.

If Riddle had a problem with it, well, tough luck asshole.

Judging from the haughtily raised eyebrows, he had a problem with it, of course. The lord's baby clothes had probably been tailored.

"I hope you have nothing planned for the afternoon, we'll need to do something about that," Riddle said.

"Good morning to you too, milord."

Riddle rang for a servant. "Send word to Lord and Lady Malfoy to expect us for lunch."

Harry's stomach plummeted.

"Why?" he asked after the servant had left.

"Tailoring is a hobby of theirs."

Oh _gods._

Apparently he hadn't been able to fully hide the horror in his expression, because Riddle smirked wickedly. "I'm sure Lucius will be especially delighted."

At least now he knew why the clothes Malfoy had sent him had fit him so perfectly.

"Not to worry," Riddle continued. "If they keep you for more than three days I'll find a way to pry you away from them."

Harry didn't say anything, not entirely sure if he was joking or not.

Riddle made himself more comfortable in his chair behind the big wooden desk. The servants had led Harry once again to the library upon arriving and Harry was beginning to suspect the lord didn't live in any of the other rooms of the manor.

"Lucius aside," the lord said. "You seem to have a talent for charming people. It will come in handy."

"I'm flattered, milord. But so it seems do you."

The man's quick rise through society could not be explained solely by pure luck or ruthless blackmail. There had to be real talent underneath it.

"Ah, yes, but _you_ are lowborn."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Born with only half a brain?"

"Born without any assets," Riddle corrected. "You are playing with the worst possible cards against people with nothing but aces."

"What cards are _you_ playing with?"

"The ones I made for myself."

Harry frowned. "That…sounds like cheating. Sir."

Riddle smiled sharply. "Only fools don't cheat, Mr Evans."

"For example," the lord continued, standing up and selecting a book from the shelf behind him. "Lowborns aren't taught to read. And so you will learn it." Riddle circled the table and held out the book to him. "One card at a time."

Harry warily took the book from him. "Knowledge is power?"

"And those in power restrict knowledge," the lord nodded and sat back down. "Restrict it enough and suddenly blood is all that matters."

"Careful milord, people might begin to think you don't approve of the system," Harry said cautiously.

"Don't worry Harry, most people aren't good at thinking."

Heavens above that man was beyond arrogant.

"I'm not most people." Harry bit the inside of his cheeks as soon as he said it. Why had he done that? Why was he talking to the lord at all? Damnit why was he so hard to ignore?

"Oh I know. In fact I'm counting on it," Riddle chuckled. "And I'm ever so glad you finally decide to leave the barking and start biting. Though dogs don't really do you justice. You're more of a cat. No matter, both like to be petted."

 _Don't react, don't react, don't react._ Harry chanted in his head while his blood boiled. He was better than that. He could kneel and bow and nod without caring. He was untouchable.

"Still no rise? Such a stubborn little thing. You are searching for pride in places most people lose theirs."

Harry remained silent and Riddle sighed harshly. " _Talk_ to me. Or I'll find other means to entertain myself and I assure you, you wouldn't like them any better."

Harry glared at him. The lord was obviously not going to stop until he got what he wanted. He took a deep breath. The man wanted to be entertained? _Fine._

Harry would give him _some_ reaction, just what he wanted to see, while keeping everything he didn't want him to see to himself. He could do that right?

"You said I'm good at charming people. Nothing charms people more than obedience."

Riddle leaned back in his seat, satisfied. "And where's the advantage in charming them if you end up obeying anyways? You're doing all the work without collecting the rewards."

"I think that depends on what you're aiming for."

"Indeed. What I don't understand is why you are aiming _down_ instead of _up_."

Harry subtly clenched his fist. The man was far too perceptive.

"I have my reasons."

"Everyone wants to rise above their station," Riddle insisted. "Some stop at nothing to achieve it, others are much less ambitious, but all aim higher even if it's just a little bit."

"A few days ago I was destitute, now my circus is being sponsored by one of the most influential lords. Doesn't that count as rising up?" Harry asked sweetly.

The lord shook his head, obviously aware Harry wasn't serious. "I have never met anyone who so obviously ignores his own gifts."

"I am not ignoring them."

"You are using them to stay exactly where you are," Riddle countered. "I wonder, what is it you fear from rising above the dirt?"

Harry clenched his fists tighter. "You make the assumption I have nothing left to lose."

"Right, your little friends. That's it then? Blind loyalty?"

The lord leaned forward and folded his hands on the table, fixing Harry with curious eyes and a half-formed smirk. "Do they know you're lying to them?"

This time, Harry had to grit his teeth so hard he could taste blood. The bastard was just guessing wildly, that's all. He just happened to be very, very good at it.

"I'm not," he snarled.

Riddle tutted amused. "Careful little one, you're slipping."

He was right of course, which made it so much worse.

Harry straightened his spine, forced his muscles to relax and assumed an overall calm and controlled demeanour, almost bored.

"I'm not," he repeated without any inflection.

Riddle's eyebrows rose. "Impressive."

Harry snorted, letting go of his carefully arranged posture. "Did you just compliment me on my ability to lie?"

"It's a valuable skill."

"I'm beginning to doubt the content of your teachings."

"I call it life," the lord said with a smirk. "But for now, let's start with letters."

 _For now?_

He gestured for Harry to sit - bloody finally - and his _lessons_ began. Harry remained tense, half expecting the lord to take out a whip, or at the very least insult him for his ignorance at every possible turn.

But to his great surprise and even greater annoyance, Riddle was an outstandingly skilled teacher.

.

* * *

 _._

 _ **A/N:** Can somebody come over and protect me from this story? It's bullying me and holds my attention hostage...  
_


	5. A matter of honour

_**A/N:** oh look, inspiration strikes again on the story I least expected.  
_

 _Thank you all for your lovely reviews!_

 _Enjoy :)_

 _._

* * *

 ** _A matter of honour  
_**

As promised, midday found them at Malfoy manor. Even bigger and more lavish than Riddle's home, however with fewer grounds surrounding it, it stood at the centre of the noble quarter, unlike Riddle's remote location.

Harry had been spared the no doubt extensive house tour in favour of ushering him onto a pedestal and into layers of new clothes with Lucius flitting around him to adjust them.

Riddle sat on a spacious coach to the side, his attention mostly on the book in his lap, his posture too perfectly casual to be anything else than meticulously arranged. Harry had no choice but to stare at himself in the mirror in front of him, resigned to his fate.

"I'm teaching him to read."

"Why, that is delightful!"

 _Kill me now._

Blondie beamed at him like his favourite dog had just learnt a new trick. Harry managed a half-smile in return.

He sent a vicious glare in Riddle's direction as soon as Lucius turned away. The lord wasn't looking at either of them, but his lips curled into a smirk.

"Dark clothes are a standard must-have, but surely he will need something more festive as well?" Lucius asked, fiddling with Harry's sleeves. "We could go with the trend, or fashion something for those eyes of his."

Riddle flicked a page. "What's the trend?"

"Purple-"

"No."

 _Thank the gods for small mercies._

"Green," Riddle said decisively. "It fits both his eyes and my crest."

Lucius didn't seem put out by the rejection and proceeded to hold several clothes of different shades of green to Harry's chest.

"And what does Mr Evans think?" Blondie asked him.

 _That this is the most spectacular waste of time humans have ever invented. And this comes from someone who is used to circus costumes._

"I submit myself to your judgment, milords."

From behind, Riddle snorted. "Yes, apparently you always submit when it is convenient."

Lucius glanced curiously between them. "Now, now, my Lord. We can hardly chide him for obedience."

Riddle finally looked up from his book and his eyes found Harry's in the mirror. "A very devious scheme, to claim innocence while making the conscious decision to follow blindly."

"Some people were born to be ruled," Harry quipped back sweetly.

"We'll make a philosopher out of you yet!" Lucius chuckled, oblivious to the tension between the two other men. Or maybe he was laughing because of it, Harry wouldn't put it past him.

"Well in any case, our Mr Evans here was definitely born to wear fine clothes," Lucius continued, making a few final tweaks on Harry's sleeve.

The last piece of clothing he had been provisionally adjusting was his coat. Dark ebony with green and silver accents and a thread count Harry hadn't known to be possible.

Riddle tilted his head and scrutinized the finished product with an intentness that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable.

"No neckcloth?"

"Too stuffy for him I think," Lucius said critically.

He rummaged in one of the many drawers and procured a simple matching string.

Harry scowled at it while Lucius made to tie it around his neck. "I am not a present."

"That would depend entirely on whether you allow yourself to be unwrapped."

Because of course Blondie would make sexual innuendos while having his hands wrapped around his throat.

Harry forced the corner of his lips upwards in what was hopefully a pleasant expression. "And what if I don't?"

"Hmm," Lucius made, finishing the tie and stepping back. "A mystery perhaps?"

"Or a bomb," Riddle spoke up.

Harry turned his back on the mirror and faced the lord instead. He broadened his smile, leaving it just fake enough for Riddle to see through it easily. "You think me so violent, milord?"

He faltered slightly when Riddle unexpectedly stood up and approached him.

"That depends, do you submit yourself to your own feelings as readily as to the people around you?"

Riddle reached for the string and Harry, fighting every flinching instinct he had, warily tipped his chin up to allow him access.

Riddle's smirk grew and unlike Harry's it was entirely genuine. He unwrapped the tie unnecessarily slow. "Tik tok, Mr. Evans."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Boom."

Something in Riddle's eyes ignited. Just the tiniest glimpse of it, but for it to shine through all the carefully constructed layers was telling. Underneath the façade of smug aloofness, there was desire.

The man was interested in him. Not just the banter, not just his talents or his usefulness to him. He was genuinely interested enough that it showed.

That was…unexpected. Terrifyingly exhilarating. And very dangerous.

Harry wasn't above using it against him to gain an advantage. However for the first time in Harry's life he wondered if that particular dance was too difficult for him. For whatever game they were playing, Riddle was exceedingly good at it. Leading him on and then lose control over the situation was not a position Harry wanted to find himself in. The lord would see through all of his attempts at blatant seduction, immediately turning all manipulations back at him.

The question was whether Riddle's interest outweighed the potential disadvantage he got from indulging. Would it blind him enough to overlook Harry's scheming?

No matter how good Harry was at reading people, the minuscule hint on Riddle's face was nowhere near enough to determine that.

Still. How very…flattering.

Riddle didn't bother to give the string back to Lucius, stuffing it into his pocket instead, because _of course he would._

"How fast?"

"Pardon?" Lucius asked, evidently distracted by them.

"The clothes, Lucius."

"Oh. I will give them to Narcissa immediately, my lord, she makes much finer stitches than me."

Harry blinked, genuinely surprised to hear Blondie admit to inferiority. Then again, this was the woman he married. Purely noble blood alone wouldn't do for a Malfoy wife, there had to be a rather long list of her own accomplishments.

"Also, the documents you requested are waiting in my study, my lord. Lunch should be ready in half an hour." Lucius turned to Harry, beaming again. "And please feel free to visit our library to practice your reading."

"A marvellous idea, wouldn't you say Mr. Evans?" Riddle asked, faint amusement plainly audible if one cared to listen.

"Yes," Harry said drily. "Marvellous."

.

* * *

.

The Malfoy's library was far less impressive than Riddle's, although Harry had the suspicion that no one could compete with the librophile. It had a lot more room to move though, and daylight entered unhindered.

The big room was inviting enough for Harry to actually consider sitting down and relax as long as he still could, but he discarded that plan as soon as he realized that he was not alone.

A young man about his age laid buried under blankets on a massive couch.

"Who are you? Did father hire new servants again without telling me?" His voice sounded scratchy and Harry could see that his blonde hair was slightly sticking to his sweaty forehead.

If there was one thing worse than nobles, it was their children. Entitled, spoiled and arrogant beyond belief. If there was one thing worse than a noble's child, it was a sick one. In that case you could add insufferable, grumpy and short-tempered to the list.

Harry, back in his old clothes, could hardly blame him for thinking him a servant. After all, what other purpose could a lowborn possibly have inside their manor?

"Well no matter," the young man - _Lucius' son, heavens protect us_ \- continued. "Fetch me the Tales of Beedle the Bard."

"Isn't that a children's story?" Harry asked thoughtlessly and immediately cursed himself for it.

An angry flush spread over the other's pale face. "So what, it calms me down. Are you _judging_ me, boy?"

"Of course not, sir," Harry sighed.

"Get to it then," he groused. "It's the one with the blue-"

But Harry had already pulled the book with the matching title out, only now realizing his mistake. He was not yet accustomed to hide is new ability, slow and undeveloped as it was.

The young man frowned and sat up straighter, instantly suspicious. "Lowborns can't read."

"I-…"

"Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my house?"

Harry decided on the truth. "I came here with Lord Riddle."

"You're his servant? I suppose it would explain your affinity for books. But what are you doing here unsupervised?"

"I'm not his servant," Harry pressed out, bile gathering in his mouth at the mere idea of it.

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Harry."

The other gaped at him. "Do I look like I care about your name, you scu-"

"Draco!"

Harry hadn't thought he would ever be relieved to see Lucius, but apparently there really was a first time for anything.

"I see you've met our guest," Lucius smiled benevolently at both of them. "He is quite the extraordinary young man, even Lord Riddle seems to agree. Who knows, maybe you two will become friends in no time!"

Draco's sneer told Harry he did not quite share his father's views. But after hearing his father talk so enthusiastic about Harry, there was no way he could voice his own opinions now. That Harry met Lucius' approval and garnered his attention was obviously not sitting right with him.

Lucius looked between them expectantly, but when both of them remained silent he clapped his hands together.

"Well, lunch will be a pleasant opportunity to get to know each other. I trust you are well enough to join us again, Draco?"

He waited long enough to see his son's terse nod, before leading them out of the library. Harry politely waited for Draco to exit first.

"You must be good at sucking up to people," Draco hissed at him when he passed.

"Why thank you," Harry said drily.

"Don't get your hopes up, he never fucks them."

Harry's eyebrows rose involuntarily at the crude remark. Really, what a fascinating family dynamic.

He trailed after the other two warily, pondering about the sheer and completely unnecessary vastness of the mansion.

Riddle appeared somewhere down the hallway, falling into step with Harry behind the Malfoys.

"Did you have time to practice reading?" he asked pleasantly.

Harry glanced up at him. "No, I met Draco."

"You don't seem to have taken a liking to him."

"Oh I'm sorry milord," Harry said sweetly. "Did I not make my general stance on nobles clear enough?"

Riddle tilted his head as he watched the younger Malfoy pensively. "Charm him."

"What?"

"You like that game don't you? Wrapping people around your fingers?"

Harry scowled. "And why would I want to do that with Draco?"

Riddle looked down at him amused. "Because I'm telling you to."

"You didn't think to tell me that before our first meeting?" Harry huffed. "He hates me already, it will take quite a while to change his mind."

"Exactly, it will be a challenge. Useful practice."

Harry stopped abruptly, scrutinizing the lord with narrowed eyes. "Practice for _what_?"

He wasn't able to stand still for long, because Riddle effortlessly placed a hand on his lower back and guided him forward insistently.

"Do you remember our conversation about asking questions? If your memory is failing I'm happy to teach you the lesson again," Riddle said innocently, though his sharp eyes promised pain.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "I remember."

Riddle smirked at him. "Clever boy."

Gods damn it, why was that man so good at getting under his skin?

"Between not asking the wrong questions and keeping up a satisfactory conversation, your rules are a bit hard to navigate, milord," he remarked wryly.

"I'm sure you'll manage splendidly, Mr. Evans."

Harry stopped again, this time resisting Riddle's attempt at pushing him on and forcing the lord to halt as well.

"And how am I doing so far?"

He was well aware that he shouldn't tease like that, not if he wanted to keep his distance. But there was something about Riddle that he couldn't help but respond to.

"I thought we already established that you've exceeded my expectations," Riddle murmured.

"Hmm. Your expectations must be low, milord," Harry mocked lightly. "I wasn't even trying."

He marched on, deliberately just out of Riddle's reach. Though judging by the lord's chuckle that followed him, Riddle wasn't exactly displeased by it.

.

* * *

.

By the time Harry made it back to the circus it was already approaching evening. He hadn't trained at all today, his head was swimming with letters, his mood was low because of all the forced socializing with the Malfoys and he hadn't slept nearly enough last night.

He dodged the worried looks of his friends and locked himself in his trailer for some blessedly quiet hours alone. He was determined to only come out directly before the show, perform his acts and go straight to bed afterwards. Of course things couldn't go that smoothly and his peace was disturbed a good half an hour before the show.

He opened his door to the twins insistent knocking. "What?"

George shrugged apologetically. "Uh, there's this asshole bothering Hermione and we think Ron is about to do something incredibly stupid."

"Like always," Fred supplied, as if they weren't just as hot-headed as their younger brother.

"Okay," Harry sighed. "But why are you coming to me?"

The twins exchanged glances. "Yeah… The asshole is noble."

"Aren't they all," Harry muttered.

"And none of us knows how to deal with them… I mean, we can't exactly tell him to fuck off now can't we?" They sounded hopeful.

"No you can't," Harry said and stepped down. "Where are they?"

The twins pointed all the way through the gathered crowd to the entrance of the tent and Harry's stomach twisted unpleasantly when he saw the familiar dark skin.

"Yeah I know this one. Stay here."

"But-"

"Stay," Harry ordered and made his way through the crowd.

Zabini was surrounded by his little friends again, standing way too close for comfort to Hermione.

He saw Ron a few feet inside the tent behind the ticket counter, glaring darkly at the group. Hermione had her lips pressed fiercely together, an expression usually reserved for when she failed to make her newest magic trick work.

The twins were right of course, there was no way for the circus members to actually do something. The only option was to redirect their attention, but Harry wasn't entirely sure that would be enough.

It was easy with people like Lucius who liked the game, quite another thing with Zabini who was young and reckless. He didn't know the rules, but he could feel the power it gave him and got drunk on it without realizing when he was supposed to stop.

"Mr. Zabini," Harry greeted, making everyone turn towards him. "What an honour."

Zabini thankfully took a step away from Hermione to focus on Harry.

"Evans! We came to watch you bend over," he grinned.

He saw Hermione bristling at the comment, but Harry only smiled mildly. Deflect, divert, lead away.

"The show starts in about thirty minutes, can I interest you in a snack?" He gestured to their popcorn and candyfloss stand.

Zabini wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I'd like to get some entertainment before the show. If you catch my meaning."

He was seizing up Hermione again and Harry cursed silently.

"Either of you is acceptable I'd say," Zabini continued and leered at Harry. "Actually why not both?"

Harry was about to make a calm and charming retort when he got suddenly yanked away from Zabini.

"Get away from him!" Hermione hissed furiously at the young noble.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, speechless.

Zabini looked shocked for a second but then broke out laughing. "She has fire, I like it. But I heard lowborns have no personality, so is that also just an act to please?"

"What we do is serious and requires skill, I assure you none of it is aimed to please the likes of _you_ ," Hermione spat, actually daring to take an aggressive step in his direction.

"Hermione stop it!" Harry whispered beseechingly, trying to nudge her away from Zabini.

Zabini raised an eyebrow. "Well she's obviously not up for a good time. Is that a woman thing or are you just the only one who's well-behaved, Evans?"

Harry tried for a charming smile, hoping to regain some control of the situation. "Most aren't used to being around highborns, that's all."

"You are though," Zabini pointed out pensively. "I imagine you, ah, keep them _company_ often?"

"How dare you!" Hermione was truly angry now, shoving past Harry to get to Zabini.

"Hermione, listen-"

She spun around to face him. "You can't let him talk about you like that!"

Zabini seemed to find her fury more amusing than anything. "Actually I've decided. It would be fun if she watches while I fuck y-"

Hermione - smart, kind, sensible Hermione - pulled back her fist and straight up punched Zabini in the face.

For a second everyone stood frozen, then Zabini's friends rushed to help him up and Harry pulled Hermione away.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Ron came running towards them, his expression torn between worry and awe.

Hermione huffed and snatched her arm away from Harry. "He was despicable to you."

Harry gaped at her, after all just a few days before she had talked about prostitution rather matter-of-factly.

"Hermione, shit, they can hang you for this!"

She paled a bit at that, but held her head stubbornly higher. "Worth it."

" _Nothing_ is worth that, certainly not me damn you!"

"Fuck I'm bleeding," Zabini groaned. "Oh you are going to regret that, little girl. This will be fun explaining to the authorities."

With his friends close on his heels he marched out of their camp.

Ron tugged at Hermione's sleeve. "You should hide, they'll never find you in the slums and they'll stop looking after a few days."

"If I hide they're going to come after all of you and I'm not a coward," Hermione retorted.

"Well I'm not going to wait for them to come and kill you!" Ron cried.

"No one is killing anyone," Harry assured them, thinking fast. "Wait here. Don't do anything stupid."

He hurried after Zabini, catching him on his way through the poorer quarters leading to the city centre.

"Mr. Zabini!" he called, walking up to them as they slowed down.

"Evans," Zabini greeted coolly, "You've let me to believe lowborns could actually be civilised, I see now I was mistaken."

Harry clenched his fists, knowing that to Zabini 'civilised' meant subservient.

"She is, usually."

"Well that's not good enough is it? I wouldn't want her suddenly attacking innocent citizens in a bloodthirsty rage."

Harry had the urge to roll his eyes. Trust highborns to blow everything out of proportions.

"She just-"

"There's no excuse for laying a hand on a noble," Zabini said and started walking again.

"I wouldn't report it if I were you," Harry said, trying to sound calm.

Zabini turned back around in disbelief. "Are you threatening me?"

"No sir, a friendly suggestion," Harry smiled, swallowing the bile that threatened to come up for his next words. "Lord Riddle wouldn't like it. We're his property you know."

He saw the effect of his words instantly. Zabini's eyes narrowed in consideration, his brows drawn together.

"Lord Riddle has a somewhat peculiar interest in arts and sponsored a circus instead of painters or musicians, but that doesn't mean he's protecting you. All of you are easily replaceable."

"He doesn't think so," harry lied.

Zabini sneered down at him. "Really now? How about we go and ask him?"

Harry's hands became sweaty. "And bother him with an unannounced visit? Surely you wouldn't-"

"Surely I would," Zabini drawled. "I am a Zabini. If lowborns dare to harass me everyone needs to know. We can't allow this to become an epidemic."

They began walking again and when Harry stood there frozen, two of them simply dragged him along.

Harry could tell they were done listening to him. The thing with words was that the other side first had to get to a point where they would even hear it. No amount of pleasant words could reach someone who already made up their mind.

He might have stopped Zabini from reporting the incident immediately, but Harry couldn't help but feel like he failed.

Riddle had made his point quite clear. He didn't care about any of the circus' members, or even the circus itself. That had just been a way to get to Harry. And attacking a highborn was a mortal offense, doubly so for a noble like Zabini. If he knew what Riddle was after Harry might have a way to bargain, but right now he had nothing to offer.

Zabini's bravado seemed to falter a bit when a servant answered the door and told them to wait in the parlour so he could go alert his lord.

His friends too seemed nervous and it occurred to Harry that this might just be the first time the young men had to put themselves out there without their parents' explicit approval and protection.

"Young Mr. Zabini," Riddle greeted when he entered, his voice barely above a whisper. "And Mr. Evans," he continued when he saw Harry standing there, still held by Zabini's friends. Riddle turned back to Zabini. "And what urgent business could you possibly have with me? Was the show not entertaining enough?"

Zabini straightened his spine. "I wouldn't know Lord Riddle. These circus freaks harassed and insulted their betters. One of them _punched_ me!"

Riddle's expression remained blank, but Harry could have sworn he saw amusement when those eyes shifted to him. "This one?"

"No," Zabini said annoyed. "A girl. His friend."

"Too bad."

Zabini stared at him. "T-too bad? Milord?"

"And here I was hoping you finally decided to show your claws, Mr. Evans. Ah well." Riddle turned back to the confused Zabini. "And what is it I can do for you?"

"Well, I want to have her hanged of course."

"Of course," Riddle echoed and Harry tensed. "And I'm assuming he doesn't agree with that?"

Zabini stiffened. "What does it matter what a lowborn agrees to? Attacking a highborn is ample cause for hanging!"

"Yes," Riddle amended. "But did it happen?"

"W-what? Of-of course it happened! I wouldn't lie to you milord, my friends-"

"Are obviously on your side. So I'm asking Mr. Evans: Is it true?"

For a moment, Harry considered lying. He might even do it well enough to convince Riddle.

But for once the lord wasn't the problem. Zabini would feel deeply wronged and while he couldn't involve the law directly, he would still come after the circus with a vengeance.

"Yes milord," he said and Zabini relaxed notably.

"I see. And why would she do that?"

"I believe she took offense to some of the things Mr. Zabini said. Some of his… _suggestions_ disturbed her."

Zabini snorted. "She is lowborn, she has no right to take offense."

"She didn't do it on her behalf," Harry snapped.

"Oh?" Riddle leaned forwards interested. "Then towards whom were those suggestions directed? And what kind of suggestions are we talking about?"

His eyes didn't leave Harry's and it was clear he knew the answer to his own question. He just wanted to hear Harry say it.

Well if he thought that would somehow humiliate Harry then the lord obviously had no clue what he had been going through all his life.

"He wanted to fuck me," he said with a straight face, making Zabini sputter.

And Riddle smiled, enjoying himself all too much.

"I had hoped your father taught you better, Mr. Zabini," the lord said to the younger noble who slowly but surely turned red. "We don't mingle like that with lowborns, most definitely not in the open. You not only displayed a sever lack of discretion, you also almost lay hands on what is _mine_. I don't take very kindly to that."

Zabini's bluster was gone now and he looked very much like a berated child. "But she punched me," he insisted subdued.

"Yes. And if you went to court you would win in a heartbeat and the girl would die. But the cause would still be known. Your… _interest_ in a lowborn would be public. The girl would die while taking your honour with her."

Zabini kept quiet and Riddle smiled patiently. "So I ask again, what happened?"

"Nothing," Zabini pressed out after a while. "Absolutely nothing, we had a most pleasant evening."

Riddle nodded approvingly. "I'm glad to hear it. My servant will escort you out. Not you, Mr. Evans," he added when all of them turned to leave.

Harry reluctantly stayed where he was while the other filtered out of the room.

"Mr. Zabini, I guarantee you that the situation will be dealt with, just not so publicly, that is the best I can offer you."

Zabini's sour expression lifted considerably. "Thank you Lord Riddle."

The door of the parlour closed behind him, leaving Harry alone with Riddle.

Harry expected the lord to gloat or burst into vicious anger again, but he was only met with silence, the other clearly waiting for him to speak first.

"What do you want?" he asked, steeling himself for the answer. There was no way Riddle had done that without a gain in mind.

Riddle sighed dramatically. "What does a man have to do to get a thank you from you, Mr. Evans?"

Harry remained silent and rigid while Riddle advanced, as always careless about personal space.

"Well? Go on."

Harry forced himself to take a breath. "Thank you."

"Terrible," Riddle said dismissively and Harry pressed his lips together in annoyance.

"You act well, but it's inconsistent. You spin tales quickly, but don't finish them. You managed to stop Zabini from reporting the incident but couldn't stop him from coming here."

"His mind was quite set."

Riddle waved his interjection away. "Did you even think of offering him anything? I keep telling you to use your talents."

"The Zabinis are almost as rich as the Malfoys, he wouldn't be interested in our money," Harry protested.

Riddle gave him a pointed look. "He is interested in you."

"Well I'm sorry that I didn't whore myself out to him," Harry answered drily.

"You told me you would do _anything_ ," the lord said and leaned down until they were on eye level. "So that leaves the option that you didn't stop him from coming here, because you'd rather be under me than him. Am I correct?"

Harry's mouth was suddenly very dry. It took all his will not to break eye contact, Riddle's sharp focus sending goosebumps over his back.

"No, you're wrong."

Riddle leaned forward even more and tilted his head, his lips brushing against Harry's ear. "Terrible."

Harry shivered and took a vehement step back.

"I'm already indebted to you, that's all," he said tightly.

Riddle sighed again, but thankfully straightened up. "Keep your friends in check. All your actions reflect back on me and so far your group has given me nothing but trouble. This incident can be excused as a reaction to the changed environment, but not in the future. Your little circus has become a new trend and much more nobles are bound to visit you. To them, lowborns are servile by nature and they will expect better behaviour.

The lord paused to fix Harry sternly. " _I_ expect better from you, Mr. Evans."

Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the mansion, trying not to think about how much those words seemed to affect him.

He didn't need anyone's approval, least of all Riddle's. There was no reason why he should want to live up to his expectations.

There was no reason.

None at all.

.

* * *

.

 _ **A/N:** I've eaten a dozen muffins in a row and am high on suger. I should probably wait until my heart isn't tripping over itself anymore so I can reread this calmly but all this hyper energy makes it hard to wait so here you go.  
_

 _Until next time and do consider leaving a comment thx :3_


	6. Of secrets behind stories

**A/N:** _I really meant to update Blurring Reality, but then I was reading this article about how my country has, unexpectedly, one of the strongest attachments to circus (compared to other countries) and well... I would like to agree.  
_

 _Thank you so much for all your reviews :)_

 _Enjoy!_

 _._

* * *

 **Of secrets behind stories**

Zabini never returned to the circus, but being surrounded by nobles became their new normal. While the circus members slowly got used to their new audience, their presence still continued to pose problems.

The biggest difficulty resulted from the fact that lowborns continued to show up as well. The circus had no way of keeping the two social classes separated from each other. And while they obviously clustered together in their seating, in the end they were still sitting in the same tent. Which was round. There was no up or down, no beginning or end, no barriers.

So far there had been no incidents, only the uneasy tension. But it was clear that their circus had become a melting pot of people that were not supposed to be melted together. Their unusual situation must have spread beyond the city, for they were starting to be sought out by travellers as well.

Another circus built up their camp on the other side of the lowborn quarters, hoping to benefit from the nobles' sudden interest in their art form.

A few weeks into this new life, their circus was approached by a theatre group. The group had been travelling and heard about their fame. Molly and Arthur decided to collaborate with them and let them build up their camp right next to the circus.

Circus and theatre groups had always gotten along. They were both travelling performers, both unfamiliar with a permanent home and both seen as less than lowborn in front of the law. Since ancient times, they had stuck together.

The only one not overflowing with joy at this new addition was Harry. He had nothing against theatre or actors mind you. He just knew that after trying out some new creations, they were always bound to fall back on the nation's favourite play.

A seemingly eternal crowd pleaser, especially amongst nobles, there was little Harry despised more.

"C'mon Harry, sit down and watch with us!" Ron said and patted the grass next to him, his attention already focused on the stage that now stood next to their tent.

Harry looked longingly in the direction of his trailer. "I, uh, I should really get ready for our show."

"We won't start for another two hours."

"I have this new trapeze routine that I want to try and-"

"You've got that stuff in your sleep!" Ron dismissed his argument. "Sit down! Relax!"

Hermione and the twins were plopping down next to Ron, the seats in front of the stage reserved for paying customers. They all looked curiously at Harry.

With a sigh, Harry sat down himself, resigned to his fate.

He tried to tune the play out. But the thing with these popular plays was that the audience tended to react boisterous and loudly, jerking him out from his safe place inside his own thoughts.

"And he was a good king!" the narrator exclaimed, gesturing to the actor who had just gotten crowned.

The audience snickered and giggled, everyone already knowing the story like an old friend.

"No, no, he was!" the narrator assured them. "It's just that he had this little problem you see…"

"What problem?" a woman shouted from the audience.

"Ah milady, I could not possible talk about such things in front of you civilised people."

"Do, do!" the audience chorused.

The narrator pretended to be torn. "Well, it is rather tragic. He could not love you see, only lust. So when he saw that beautiful woman walking down the streets…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "He took her."

The audience gasped.

The narrator straightened up. "Ah I hear you have pity! I hear you outraged! But you do not know the worst!"

Audience leaned forward expectantly.

"Do not waste your pity on the wretched thing. For she was lowborn."

Boos erupted from the audience, fully invested in the story now. They were louder near the front where the highborns sat, but it was clear that lowborns chimed in.

Despite his dislike for the play, Harry had always thought that part fascinating. The fact that, if done correctly, the audience was ready to boo at its own kind.

This was why the system survived. Because when it came down to it, even lowborns would rather betray each other than stick together. It was so much easier to condemn than to trust.

When the audience had calmed down enough, the narrator continued. "She claimed it was love! That he was the king of her nation as well as the king of her heart. And he, poor fool, interpreted his twisted lust as love."

The narrator paused dramatically before speaking his next lines. "But oh, it gets worse, so much worse!"

The audience shook their heads in mute horror.

"She was pregnant!"

Upon his exclamation, the actors once again came alive.

"I shall raise him as my rightful heir," the king declared.

"But he is lowborn," the scantily clad woman next to him replied.

"He is also royal."

The woman frowned. "But he cannot be one _and_ the other."

"This one will. And no one will be any wiser."

"If you say so…" she said and they kissed amongst new boos from the audience.

"But the gods condemned the couple and devastation befall the kingdom," the narrator continued. "Black plague, fires, earthquakes! And still the foolish king did not see reason. He traded the wellbeing of his whole nation for the delusion that he could change the natural order."

There were some rather impressive artistic representations of the mentioned catastrophes as the play ran its scripted course.

The woman died before the child – at this point it had been confirmed that it would have been a demon anyways – was born. The king wallowed in self-pity and remorse, but it was so exaggerated that it only served to anger the audience, especially since he continued to neglect his nation.

In the end, the noble hero of the play stabbed the disgraced king and took the crown as his own, accompanied by cheers from the audience.

The natural order was restored. The gods were happy. The people's lives improved.

It was all very cathartic.

Harry wanted to throw up.

"There's really not much to the story if you think about it," Hermione said flippantly while the crowd applauded. "It's only popular because it's so scandalous racy."

"The noble court really must have had something against that king to encourage such a play," Ron agreed.

"What if it's true?" Hermione asked suddenly. "What if he actually wanted to bring down the system and blur the lines between high- and lowborn? The nobles would have ample reason to be scared of him and thus remove him."

"He was the _king_ ," Ron interjected. "The system only benefitted him. Why would he want to do that?"

"For love. Or maybe he was genuinely a good person."

Ron shrugged it off. "He was a traitor, making some backdoor deals with other nations while paying no attention to his own people. Everyone hates him, that's why it's okay to make up such silly stories about him."

"That's what _they_ say. There's no evidence that people suffered more under his rule than under the previous or current king."

"What do you think Harry?" Ron asked him.

Harry stood up abruptly. "It's just a stupid fairy tale. What do we care who the rightful king is? Nothing ever changes for lowborns."

"It would change if a half-lowborn would have a right to the throne," Hermione pointed out.

Ron snorted. "Hermione. Low- and highborns _can't_ get children. Everyone knows that."

"And how do we know that?" Hermione challenged. "This play is so popular amongst nobles because it portrays our society as the rightful order. We just never imagined anything else."

"Jesus Hermione, lower your voice," Ron whispered frantically. "Are you trying to get yourself killed again?"

Hermione huffed. "Don't you want more in life than this?"

"What's wrong with the circus?" Ron asked affronted.

Harry left them to their bickering before they could notice him walking away.

 _Everyone aims higher._ Riddle's voice rang in his head.

Harry had seen 'higher'. 'Higher' had been comfort, shelter and happiness. What no one understood was that 'higher' could turn into bloodshed, screams and tears easily enough.

The real story… Well, who decided what reality was anyways? The masses believed in some 'wrath of the gods' fairy tale. The nobles didn't know much more.

Only that the Potter family had betrayed them and endangered their comfortable lives.

And that someone had to seize power before it stirred the ravel.

And that James Potter's son, the only one with a rightful claim to the throne, had been born with a mark shaped like a lightning bolt.

The truth? The truth was that the king had been foolish to think that love would magically protect his secret.

The truth was that James Potter's son, always smiling happily while running around the palace, was dead.

The truth was that many nobles knew very well that high- and lowborns could have children.

 _Knowledge is power._

The truth had stopped to matter when dutiful knights had killed his parents.

.

* * *

.

Before Harry knew it, he found himself in a manor filled with nobility yet again.

The time had come for the Malfoy's ball and apparently Lucius had invited every last noble born citizen. And Harry.

It turned out that the date marked another anniversary for the Malfoy's marriage – not that anyone actually cared about the reasons behind the balls. These people had little else to do than attend and organize these events.

Lucius had told him that the biggest event he had ever attended had been held by the Parkinsons and the reason for that ball had been the purchase of a new dog.

It was slightly reassuring to know that even the nobles could see a certain ridiculousness in their ways. It was however disconcerting that Harry now knew about these types of things.

Many things had changed since Harry had showed up at Riddle's gala. For one, he was now wearing Riddle's colours and everyone knew exactly who and _what_ he was.

He could no longer hide in anonymity or evade their vague questions by playing into their ignorance. Yet one thing hadn't changed – the poor things still could not make up their minds on how to treat him.

On one hand he was lowborn. On the other he was representing the most powerful lord and Blondie certainly wasn't hiding his favouritism either.

Zabini contented himself with throwing him hateful looks, obviously not confident enough for another confrontation. This also meant that his group of friends left him alone as well.

Another major plus point for this event was that Riddle remained absent. Lucius did not seem to be bothered by this and Harry assumed Riddle was known to stay cooped up with his books.

Annoyingly, it felt as if he was there anyways. Every second conversation Harry listened to featured him, his presence once again omnipresent.

Harry spent at least two hours patiently indulging the nobles, always carefully treading the line between socializing as equals and reassuring them in their superiority. The endless conversations, alternating between condescending and polite in tone, soon exhausted him.

As soon as Lucius wasn't looking, Harry politely excused himself and fled to the Malfoy's library – the only room apart from the parlour he knew, though Harry couldn't help but feel like Riddle's obsession with books was infecting him.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned around to see Draco sitting at one of the tables, fully dressed for the ball but apparently having little intention to partake.

Harry could think of several sharp answers to his accusing question, but he remembered Riddle's challenge and bit his tongue.

"Your father invited me, sir," he replied instead, even dipping his head respectfully.

Judging from Draco's sour look, it did little to appease him. "To sniff around in our library?"

"He did say I could use it for practice," Harry said. He wasn't lying per se, but he also knew Lucius would prefer him downstairs right now.

"Lowborns aren't supposed to be able to read," Draco grumbled.

Harry only nodded amiably. "You are probably right sir."

"Why the fuck are you so polite?"

One of us has to be, Harry thought drily.

"I am merely humbled to be in the presence of such a-"

"Oh my god." Draco rolled his eyes and focused back on the stack of papers in front of him.

Harry frowned lightly. He had been careful to infuse his tone with respect and honesty. No matter how ridiculous the statement, surely Draco had been brought up to believe exactly these things?

"I worry I might have given you a wrong impression in our last meeting."

Draco sighed harshly. "Look, just because you're crawling up my father's ass doesn't mean you have to do the same to mine okay?"

Sadly, this was exactly the task Harry had to achieve.

Time to step his game up. He knew nobles. Nothing pleased them more than a lowborn tripping over themselves to curry their favour. And being utterly inconsolable if they failed to do so.

"I- I just…I'm not used to be surrounded by such highborn people and you being of a similar age…having already achieved so much…it's truly inspirational."

"Yes I'm great," Draco said drily.

There was bitterness in his voice. What the hell? There was no way Draco could have seen through his act. And yet he reacted not just with cool dismissal but acrid self-deprecation.

Why was this not working? A brat like Draco should revel in his misguided adoration. Bask in his compliments.

Every other highborn would let the words feed straight into their already overblown ego. But they seemed to bounce right off of Draco. This was only supposed to happen if someone had…

Low self-esteem.

Heavens above, Lucius Malfoy's son had low self-esteem. How was that even possible?

"Of course you are!" Harry exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Really? At what?" Draco asked sharply.

Oh my. Poor little Draco. You aren't supposed to ever question your worth when born noble.

People around you would sing their praises from the moment you were born. You weren't supposed to possess the critical thinking necessary to stop and ask why. If you did that, you would suddenly realize that it is impossible for you to earn real praise, because everyone around you was obliged to give it anyways.

There was no fate worse than becoming aware of being stuck in a system that allowed only fake validation.

Harry had to suppress a grin. Checkmate.

"I like your taste in literature," he said.

Draco's head snapped up, clearly not having expected an answer. "What?"

"Tales of Beadle the Bard. I have only heard snippets before, but now I got to read the original. I loved it."

"…Okay."

"Are you writing your own book?"

Draco's features twisted unpleasantly. "What?!"

"I just… I couldn't help but notice." Harry gestured to the stacks of papers in front of Draco. "That is way too much for a letter."

Draco's expression smoothed out, even turning haughty. "I am not writing. I already finished. I am revising." He frowned darkly. "Not that anyone will ever read it. Don't tell father."

"Of course not," Harry assured him, accepting his odd change in direction unblinkingly. "Why would no one read it?"

"Because I won't publish it," Draco said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why not? What's it about?" Harry made sure to sound enthusiastic. Draco had clearly never had the chance to talk about it. He would only open up if he thought him truly interested.

"It's fantasy," Draco confessed after a while. "It's…childish."

So Lucius didn't approve of his son's hobby. How dramatic.

Draco had probably sneaked up here when he knew Lucius would be occupied. He probably also never had shown it to his friends for fear of being judged.

"Can I read some?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco was instantly suspicious, "Why? So you can talk?"

"Well I… no one would believe me anyways, right?"

He could see Draco was thinking about it. It mattered little that Draco didn't like him. He had no one else to show it to.

Harry was a unique opportunity. A lowborn that could read. He did not have the right to judge the work of a highborn.

It was clear that Draco was apprehensive at showing his writing to anyone, but Harry – so far below him he could barely count as human – was safe.

Warily, Draco handed him a single page. His handwriting was flourished and clean. Riddle would like it. For all his fast progress, Harry's penmanship remained atrocious, much to Riddle's amusement.

The text was passable at least, probably even good considering Harry could only read one page of the story. But Harry would have acted like it was great even if it would have been terrible.

"This is really good."

Draco considered him for a moment. "You're just saying that because I could have you flogged."

"No, it honestly is."

Harry knew he had to be especially careful not to sound fake. Too much subservience seemed to turn Draco away, yet it was vital that he believed Harry to be firmly on his side.

"What would you know about writing? You can barely read. How could you possible form an opinion based on nothing?"

Harry shrugged innocently. "It makes me want to read more, makes me wonder where the story will go. Is this not the definition of a good book?"

A simple, unassuming question, to rouse Draco's need to correct and teach. There was nothing like the feeling to know more than someone else to boost one's ego.

"There's much more to it than that. It's a craft," Draco said pompously and Harry had to hide a smile at the expected reaction. "But I guess it's a start," Draco conceded.

"You should publish it," Harry insisted.

"I told you I can't."

"Lots of nobles have written books," he pointed out. "I can't imagine your father disapproving of it so firmly."

"It's not just that, it's…" Draco broke off, uncertain.

Draco might have been afraid of his peers judging his work, but there was another possibility why he was reluctant to publish.

If he was truly craving honest appreciation, then publishing under the Malfoy name would lead to the opposite. Everyone would have to buy the book. And they would shower the Malfoy heir with fake compliments in the same tone they remarked on the weather. Meaningless.

They wouldn't even be bothered to read it. But he was a Malfoy and people would send him nice little cards about what a great job he did regardless.

If he really wanted to know the value of his work then he would have to do what surely must seem unthinkable to him – cut all ties with his powerful family name and renounce all advantages that came with it.

"You could use a different name," he suggested carefully.

Draco frowned. As predicted, there was no way the Malfoy heir had even considered that option before. "What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged. "Just use any name. One that doesn't even exist. No one has to know it was written by you."

Draco stared at him. "That doesn't make any sense. How can I get recognition if people don't know it was me?"

" _You_ would know," Harry pointed out. "And all comments directed to the fake name would be what people would say if they weren't scared of you."

Draco's frown deepened. "They _should_ be sacred of me."

"But not when it comes to this. You want to know how well they truly like it, no?"

"If I publish as a nobody then _no one_ will buy it," Draco argued.

"They will if it's good."

Draco looked pensive now and Harry knew he had him.

"Well I can't walk into a printing house and then introduce myself with a different name. They would recognize me instantly."

"You could use a disguise."

Draco shook his head. "A Malfoy is recognisable even in disguise."

"Send me then. I could go - as a servant for a master."

"No," Draco said, but he started to sound excited about this project. "If I'm doing this then I might as well go all the way. I don't want them to think I'm noble."

"Then I go…for a friend." Harry held his breath, observing how Draco's eyes widened and narrowed in turn.

Lowborns were most definitely not suitable friends for a Malfoy. But apparently Draco had realized that highborns weren't actually his friends either.

"I have more," Draco said eventually. Not really confirming Harry's outrageous offer, but not denying it either.

"How many more?"

"…A lot."

This time Harry didn't hide his smile. "Maybe start with just the one."

"Here." Draco suddenly shoved the whole stack into Harry's arms. "Read it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

"It needs to be perfect," Draco announced and then glared at him. "And don't try to tell me it already is."

Harry glanced at the large stack of papers and suppressed a sigh. This certainly wasn't how he had thought he'd use his new ability.

But if it kept him away from the masses downstairs _and_ endeared him to Draco? He'd read it twice.

.

* * *

.

Draco kept inviting him to his home in the days following the ball, to complete his project. Lucius was extremely pleased, though he couldn't possibly know what Draco was inviting him for.

The young Malfoy turned out to be a fascinating case to study. He was snobbish and abrasive, but also full of insecurities. There was passion and excitement in him, but every time it threatened to burst free, a cool mask was slipped on.

Harry knew his own presence wasn't doing much to consolidate these two sides. Draco seemed constantly torn between warming up to him and treating him as inferior. Harry's poise that had already attracted Lucius, further confused poor Draco. Overall Harry thought the whole dynamic rather amusing, despite the recurring insults thrown at him.

After their discussion at the ball it was very easy to stay in Draco's good graces. All he had to do was sit there and endure his moods patiently. Having someone to listen to his rants and ideas was more than enough for Draco to get addicted and his invites only increased with time.

It was exhausting to be sure. In addition to spending so much time at Malfoy manor, his mornings were now almost exclusively reserved for lessons with Riddle. The lord had begun to give him specific books to read, mostly politics, history and philosophy, and demanded to analyse them in excruciating detail.

What the benefit of any of that was, remained Riddle's little secret. One of many, Harry was sure.

As Riddle was also a frequent guest at Malfoy manor, Harry soon found himself sitting at dinner with the family _and_ Riddle.

Ever perceptive, Riddle needed but one glance between Draco and Harry to notice that they were now comfortable around each other.

"What did you do?" the lord asked intrigued, while the Malfoys were busy talking amongst themselves.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "You ordered to sway him, not that I have to reveal my trade secrets."

Riddle chuckled amused. "Is swaying people your trade, Mr. Evans?"

"I'm a circus artist," Harry replied curtly, not appreciating Riddle's insinuation. Charm was indispensable in his job.

"Ah yes, I forgot."

Harry scoffed, not believing the man for a second.

"He doesn't look at you with desire," Riddle mused, "He looks at you like a friend."

Harry's fist clenched around his fork. "Oh I'm sorry, did you think spreading my legs is the only thing I have going for me?"

Riddle smirked. "You hint at it often enough."

He took a sip from his goblet, unaffected by Harry's scowl. Harry silently turned back to his food, cutting it with a bit more force than necessary.

Riddle's fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping his jerky movements as well as his breathing. His touch was light, but to Harry it felt unyielding, inescapable. He stubbornly kept his eyes on the food in front of him.

Riddle leaned a bit further in his direction, eyes shining with amusement when Harry's whole posture went rigid.

"I'm impressed."

Harry refused to acknowledge the small surge of pride at his words.

"I exist for your praise," he bit out drily.

Riddle's thumb pressed more firmly over his pulse point and Harry snapped his head around to glare at him. As this was exactly the reaction Riddle had wanted, his smirk only widened.

"I see I will need to find something more challenging."

"Are _breaks_ not part of your teaching schedule, milord?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

"I am far too ambitious to allow such relaxation."

Harry blinked at Riddle's casual admission of character. It was unseemly for a highborn to be seen as ambitious. They all were of course, but you were urged to pretend otherwise.

"However," Riddle continued, suddenly intense. "I might be persuaded to hand out rewards."

The words sent Harry's thoughts reeling.

He could be wrong, as Riddle was generally hard to read. But right now he did little to hide his intentions and Harry could have sworn that they were…less than proper.

Riddle might just be teasing as usual, but Harry had yet to forget the look of unguarded _want_ on the lord's face just a few weeks ago.

Why now?

It hardly made any sense. And it held no real gain for him. The more he thought on it, the more Harry was convinced that he was reading this situation wrong.

But whether it was real or harmless teasing, Riddle must have had a goal. Did Riddle hope to unsettle him? Spook him with such a straightforward proposal?

 _Tough luck bastard, two can play this game._

With a flick of his hand, Harry freed himself and snared Riddle's wrist instead, discreetly pinning it to the table.

"Are you sure the rewards are intended for me and not for yourself?" he asked sweetly.

Riddle's pupils dilated, which really shouldn't have had such an effect on his heartbeat.

"Can it not be for both?"

Riddle did not give him time to come up with a reply. Instead he stood up and put on his coat, ignoring his half-finished plate and the questioning looks from the Malfoys.

He looked back at Harry, lips twitching. "Well?"

Oh hell. Riddle was obviously prepared and curious enough to see how far Harry would take this. Except he also did it in front of the Malfoys, which basically left Harry no choice.

Faking calmness, he put down his cutlery and stood up as well. Harry passed the other, their shoulders brushing. Riddle was watching him like a hawk.

 _This could not end well._

He glanced back and raised his eyebrows, as if Riddle was the hesitant one. "Shall we?"

.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I don't know guys, should they? I can still twist this in every possible direction. I feel like we're moving hella fast suddenly. On the other hand I don't want this to turn into another 200k slow-burn (I'm looking at you Rebuilt).  
_

 _Cya!_


End file.
